Don’t wet your sweatpants

Heading north on the 14, I had forgotten that the Vikings game would release its masses at about the time my bus would reach the outer limits of downtown. It was pouring out for most of the day but many people didn’t have umbrellas, includinga flamboyant gent wheeling around in a Rascal knock-off.

He seemed genial enough at first until we arrived at the outer limits of downtown. We hit head-on the thousands of Vikings and Packers fans engorged on adrenaline and the suburbanites who don’t know how to drive in the city. Mr. Rascal, as I’ll call him, started complaining about the traffic with a simple, “Ga, I CAN’T believe this.” His rants escalated; the driver was calm (almost drugged calm) all the while.

As I’m ready for the bus to pull up to my stop, Mr. Rascal says that he has to pee really bad but his stop isn’t for another 15-20 minutes. In response, the driver says, “Sir, just take a deep breath. I’ll take care of worrying about the traffic and driving the bus. You just hold your pee. We’ll be there soon”. I heard this so distinctly because the driver said it over the intercom.

Mr.Rascal, I hope you didn’t wet your sweatpants on that rainy day.

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