Train stations were abuzz with people on the rush, all trying to catch the final trip. Most of these harried commuters came from some good time somewhere, their tummies filled with beer or whatever concoctions imaginable.
I was on my last station. Before the exit, I’d have to take a very long escalator, from the drop-off point submerged in the deepest dungeons of the Metro subway.
As the escalator rose, so did she in my view. She wore green shorts – the shortest possible type. Her killer shoe heels were silver -coated, and a pair of almost invisible stockings hugged her long, slender, unblemished legs.
I tried not to put microscopic looks on her exposed limbs, but something suddenly caught my attention: small streams of water started to flow down her legs!
I had to pinch my eyes to confirm what was unfolding right in front of me, but truly, my eyes have remained 20/20 all these years. The girl was indeed peeing in her pants!
The escalator’s end is yet far out. I know there was a toilet somewhere near the exit.
But she just stood there. Relaxed and poised like a model unperturbed.
And then came a sudden gush of pee that could send Noah’s Ark ashore. She just poured it all! From our vantage point, it seemed like rain shower in stormy July, or better yet, an unsightly leak from broken gutter pipe.