The Art of TricklingBy Philip Dominguez Mercurio
Peeing. Don’t be ashamed to admit it. For ages, this unique art form has been passed on from generation to generation. Its golden arches of high-octane rich urea, springing fruitfully from between the loins of countless millions like the geysers found in Yellowstone, eliciting the minds of hundreds of dreamers seeking that elusive feeling of total emancipation only felt thru the arduous release of bodily fluids.
Though many of you are familiar with the poignant background sounds of rushing water accompanying your release of contents, technically, the idea of squandering your unique yellowness onto some dejected puddle of water is still a relatively new phenomenon only commonly found in advanced states of toiletrism, like the United States.
Now, let’s say you took out your DeLorean and time warp yourself back to the Philippines in the 50s. After enough time has passed, you might have the urge to pee and you’ll naturally scurry for the nearest toilet but what you may find yourself aiming your yellow rainbow of goodness at is nothing but bare ground.
Well, what happen to the toilet?
Well, unfortunately for you, you didn’t end up in the Philippines. But as my daddy recollected to me on his trips with my grandma to Pampanga, the Philippines found along the roads leading towards the provinces roads notoriously known for their habit of turning their travelers legally blonde.
Apparently, unlike those cheesy rest stops along Interstate 5 where you pretend to buy the whooper with cheese but instead hastily sneak into the lavatory unnoticed, in the Philippines, the idea of sneaking into your roadside Burger King for a little trickle was unheard of. This is because, not only was plumbing nonexistent in such places but there also wasn’t any Burger Kings along the way to Pampanga.
But don’t let the nonexistence of Burger Kings fool you. Filipinos even then still had rest stops. Just without the toilet bowls.
If you don’t know, apparently old women in really long skirts were known to halt the bus completely in its tracks, get off in a timely manner, pick a nice spot of tick-infested grass adjacent to the bus, spread their legs to the wind and well… just go, instantly fertilizing the landscape beneath them, giving new meaning to the term “organically grown.”
Whenever I hear stories about the Philippines like this, I’ve always thought that would be a strange thing to experience, the sight of a number of old women all of a sudden peeing next to a bus, the idea of which could tickle and frightened the imagination all at the same time. Wouldn’t it be funny to have had that same experience?
I guess. But always be careful what you wish for. It may come true.
“O good lord,” I thought.
I switched the headlights of the car off. Thank goodness for the creation of darkness, or this would have been too blinding to see.
Me, my Grandma Uding, and my Auntie Rosing were waiting patiently in the car for my Uncle Milo to arrive from our trip from the farmlands of Stockton.
Apparently, the combination of my speediness over the ranges of Livermore and my uncle’s more conservative speed at the limit, created a space-time continuum long enough for boredom to set in. In accordance with the laws of physics, after a certain amount of time, such as a 70-minute trip from the heart of the San Joaquin Valley, there is so much a senior could do to hold off the urge to pee.
With the choice of actually holding it, applying those laws led one to a simple solution. Go pee now.
And that’s exactly what my grandma did, peeing away in full view of the emblem of my car, sending the liquid mess flowing beneath the hum of my car engine.
I guess she didn’t realize that peeing in front a vehicle with its headlights blaring at dusk, would definitely expose some inappropriate goods to any innocent travelers driving by. Whatever the case, I definitely wasn’t going to touch my tires for a while.
My auntie couldn’t wait any longer either, sneaking around to the front of the house where it was dimmer to do the same deed. Come to think of it, no wonder why the grass is so green in the front yard of my Uncle Milo’s house. They used a specially formulated fertilizer filled with all the required nutrients coming straight from the Philippines.
To tell you the truth, the whole of my family seems to have a fascination with the urinal side of things. My mommy loves peeing anywhere that’s feasible.
Even when there are clean, well-maintained bathrooms available for the sitting, like in rest stops scattered along Virginia Highways, the thought of actually having to walk there is quite intimidating; intimidating enough that she’ll rather resort to simply squatting next to the car and taking a leak, even with the presence of numerous big rigs lined up nearby.
I guess, the idea of someone catching them in their very private act, makes the peeing an even more exciting escapade than it already is. And if opening the door of the car and lifting her worn buttocks from the grips of the car seat risked too much physical effort, she was more than likely to take out from underneath one of the front seats her handy ‘pee-pee’ bowl, that she usually ‘borrows’ from her work, and do this deed indoors.
Apparently, nothing beats the thrill of peeing while lodged inside a car going at 60 mph while large SUVs zoom by.
As unhygienic as you may think they are, their sensible, go-with-the-flow behavior does bring home one positive feature with it.
In their ingenuity to find other means other than the neoclassic water bowl procedure Americans are used to, my relatives have not only been able to avoid the stresses that holding ‘it’ requires but also were able to manifest exactly what their foremothers have been practicing next to buses years before.
Now, kids who’ve never been able to venture to their homeland could, in very strange way, still experience how it feels to be in the Philippines by way of the habits many of their relatives continue to still practice.
So if ever you see any of your relatives marking their territory in a national park somewhere, just be happy and smile.
They’re not being unsanitary.
They’re just practicing their culture in unison. - PDM