When I taught an English boy how to cop a squat
Posted: May 3rd, 2010 | Author: Halbe | Filed under: England | 13 Comments »I’ve officially had the most embarrassing moment to date on our trip and, unfortunately, it involved an impressionable English boy. Whoops!
Devon and I had the day off yesterday and we had a wonderful 8 mile walk through mid Devon county. While on the walk, we passed many beautiful fields with sheep, cows and goats as we meandered through the narrow, winding streets lined with hedges almost as tall as I. As you walk along the streets, you come across fields with animal grazing but no public toilets.
Now, anyone who knows me know that I drink a lot of water and therefore, need to go to the bathroom with frequency. Being on an extended walk without restrooms (or toilets as they’re called here) presented a challenge. And, once I couldn’t take it any longer I pulled aside on a beautiful, quiet road into a nearby field thinking to myself, “who would possibly pass by out here in the middle of no where?”
Once I was in position a few seconds pass and as I’m finishing, a young boy looking to be about 8 passes me on his bicycle riding alongside with his dog. Before he knew it, his innocent Sunday ride turned into an educational tour of how a woman pees in the wild. As he passes me his eyes pop out of his head, his jaw drops and he stops pedaling. Luckily the momentum of his bike continued him on his way past the field. Once I see him, I yell, “oh, excuse me.” He continues on his way with the image of my bottom seared into his memory.
The field where it all happened
Devon and I make eye contact. He gives me this look of, “oh yes, that just happened.” I burst out laughing until I have tears in my eyes. The look on that little boys face was priceless. Can you imagine, you’re barely learning how to read and you come across a woman peeing in the field? Now THAT’S an education.
I was hoping these guys would be my only witness
I was mortified enough that I put on the sweater wrapped around my waist in the hopes that it’d mask my real identity should we pass the boy again. It was more for my comfort than anything though because how many people walk the streets of Devon? Sigh. I guess this does prove that Americans are less civilized than the British.
I love this one! I do have to say though, as a Brit, it is definitely very common to be squatting in the countryside, so don’t you worry… however, we usually choose a convenient bush to hide behind! …An education indeed! I hope you are having fun anyway and that the British weather is holding up for you! If you come via the south of France, let me know! …p.s Halbe, we haven’t met, but I know Devon via the Zenga’s in case you were wondering what strange person is commenting on your blog π
The weather has been fantastic! Sunny days since we arrived in London. Today was the first rainy day, and as I type this, the sun is breaking through. We will be in the south-ish, near Bordeaux. Close?
Haha!!!! Gotta keep an eye out for those impressionable boys… π
I probably shouldn’t read your blog while I’m in class, because this just made me laugh out loud. Esp in memory of you dropping trou behind a port-o-potty not so many years ago at a Halloween party few of us have much recollection of. π
I’m a fan of this whole story. So then was Devon watching you pee? And if he wasn’t, why wasn’t he looking out to warn you?
I was distracted by the natural beauty of my surroundings.
Hahaha! That is funny! Why WAS Devon not looking out for you?! Or covering you up or something?
Hilarious.
Well, luckily you didn’t do that in the US. Depending on the state they may have arrested you…
The question of why Devon wasn’t covering me has been asked a lot. I don’t really have a good answer other than I guess we thought our remote location was all the covering I needed. We learned of its insufficiency the hard way.
You are now The Bottom of This Young Man’s Dream. I am sure he will remember your creamy white cheeks with odd fondness for years to come.
What did the sheep have to say?
…or develop some sort of fetish…
Someday I’ll have to tell you the story of me popping a squat for in the hills of Hollywood when about 7 months pregnant with you. Can’t imagine folks don’t do it all the time. Maybe there’s an etiquette to it that you need to apprise yourself of.
Ah, what’s a gal to do. Reminds me of our hike at the beach a few years ago, and you availed yourself of nearby backyard shrubbery. Only that time Devon watched out for you!
I was watching out! Just not very well.