On lot lizards….

You have to be a trucker, or know one, to have the foggiest clue what today’s title refers to.  See if you can figure it out by the end of the post.

I realized a while ago that I had neglected to mention that I had gone out in the truck with Stephen again over Easter weekend. It’s not like I celebrate Easter, right? And so long as the kids got their baskets full of chocolate, I knew I could leave them in a sugar induced high for the weekend and they’d be fine.

Now, much of trucking seems kind of the same – drive, drive, drive, pee, drive, drive, drive, unload, drive, load, drive, drive, drive – and so it continues. But every once in a while something happens that makes you really sit up and take notice.

You need some background here. There are no toilets in the sleeper compartments of the trucks. Really. So when you hit a truck stop for the night, the very last thing you do at night is go to the bathroom, because you do not, repeat, do not want to be trudging across the massive parking lot at 4 am to pander to a weak bladder. Although, sometimes the sights are worth it…

I woke up at 2 in the morning, needing to use the bathroom. I tried valiantly to ignore the feeling, hoping it would go away, because Stephen was snoozing oh-so-peacefully beside me, and I really, really didn’t want to wake him up. I couldn’t sneak out of the truck – he’d hear me – and he won’t let me go into the truck stop alone at that time of night – morning? I managed to hold off till 4 am, when I guess my fidgeting woke him up. I rather begrudgingly admitted I needed to go for a walk, so we got up, put on shoes, coats etc, and left the warmth of our cozy sleeper cab to head for the bathroom, oh-so-far away.

Long story short, we got there. I finished first and was waiting in the hall outside the bathrooms for Stephen, when I noticed her.

‘She’ was a rather heavy-set black lady – and I use that term loosely – with mounds of hair heaped up on her head. Her clothing was skin tight, with a top so low cut that her boobs were threatening to make a run for it any second. Her skirt barely covered her ass. And I do mean barely! She had on four inch stiletto heels, but didn’t seem accustomed to them, as she was tottering along, looking like she was about to topple off them. She had a Wendys cup in one hand and would sip from the straw every so often. As I watched – while trying not to be caught watching – she teetered in my direction, heading to the bathrooms. She ignored me as she passed, for which I was grateful. Just as she reached the bathroom door, she realized she had a paper straw wrapper stuck to the bottom of one shoe, so she tried to rid herself of it by stepping on it with the other shoe to pull it off. It stuck to the second shoe. She tried again, but no use, every time she stepped on it, it stuck to the other shoe. So there she was, doing this little dance, sidestepping from shoe to shoe. Funny as hell. She kept bending forward to see where the wrapper was, and it was one of those things that I just couldn’t help watching! I just KNEW if she bent over any further that excuse for a skirt was going to ride up and I was going to be treated to the horrific view of her lady-parts – which I was damn sure by this point weren’t going to be decently covered with undies! Spirits knew I didn’t want to see that, but I couldn’t look away!

Finally she gave up on the straw wrapper and went into the bathroom. I assume she must have dealt with it in there, because when she came out, it was nowhere to be seen. I kept hoping Stephen would come out so he could see this woman, but it wasn’t to be. She came out of the bathroom, teetered down the hall, still with the Wendys cup, but without the straw wrapper, and as she passed me she mumbled, “Have a nice day.” I was a bit taken aback, but managed to collect myself and wish her the same as she headed back to work.

I have to admit, if you had told me a year ago that at 4 am on a cold wintery morning I’d be hanging out in the bathroom hallway of a faraway truck stop exchanging pleasantries with a hooker, I’d have fallen off my chair laughing…… You read it here first.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s