A will to win

Sometimes competition gets the better of people and they do whatever is needed to win, even when it can be detremental to their physical state, their mental health or in my case, the contents of Saturday night's barbequeue.

After a brief visit to the pub, a group of friends begin the treck up the hill back to base-camp.

Some spoon-fed at the beginning of the group urges everybody to run to the top.

The fuse was lit, and even though I had already lost a bit of food in the pub, I was ready to compete.

I gave the front of the group two or three seconds to run on, and then sprinted to win.

Everybody else was jogging at best, and most were absolutely hammered, but damnit, I was going to win!

I overtook the lot of them at pace, and then stopped to be sick.

A will to win and a win to forget.

Sliproad shenanigans

We've all been there, and we've all thought about possible exit routes. I'm not referring to the sliproad however. I'm referring to the point where you're absolutely dying for a pee / poo, and you're wondering where the hell you're going to get rid of it.

I was taught a lesson in zero self-shame just the other day on my way home from work.

When exiting the sliproad off of the motorway toward the Town where I live, traffic becomes dense. This is because there is little skilled work available within the Town, and people have to commute to the City to find a job. Living outside of the City is favourable however, because of bigger and cheaper housing.

Queues to come off at this junction range between nothing to two miles long.

Whilst sat in this queue of traffic, a gentleman exits his vehicle from the passenger side. I see that the driver is still sat in the queue. The passenger walks over to the motorway barrier, and stands against it, back facing the road.

I immediately know what he's up to. He's taking a slash on the motorway. In front of an entire sliproad of traffic.

The traffic that was once stationary however, is now moving a little. He shuffles along in time with the car, whilst still in full flow, I can only assume.

Traffic speeds up. So does our urinator, only now, he's briskly walking along the sliproad with a stream of urine leading the way, appendage out for all to see. Traffic moves faster. He zips up, and walks back toward the car.

The traffic is now past a crawl. He breaks into a run. It's a race against time to get to the car before the driver gets to the motorway roundabout.

I think the car got about 6 car-lengths back from the traffic lights before it came to a stop, and the passenger got back in.

What I wouldn't have given to see that tosser left on the sliproad of a motorway having just displayed his wang to the general population.

Sometimes things aren't meant to be.