Pissing Over Medellin…

***Note to the Reader: This particular post, “Pissing Over Medellin,” contains explicit language that I hope is not gratuitous, but rather, central to the telling of this particular story.  If you’re offended by strong language, then by all means, don’t read this post!  For everyone else ~ enjoy this little tale of the fateful day I arrived in Medellin…

At the moment, I sit on a roof terrace overlooking Medellin, Pablo Escobar’s infamous city, sipping my coffee.

But how I got to Medellin, on a beautiful yet terrible bus ride from Guatape ~ that, is another story…

Pissing Over Medellin, Travel Guide for Guatape in Colombia, Girl Who Travels the World

Me during happier times, in Guatape, Colombia….

Pissing Over Medellin…

We’re stopped on the edge of the highway, overlooking the once infamous city of Medellin.  Fifty motorcycles are lined up to our right.  Like us, they’re waiting to pass a construction barricade, about thirty minutes outside of Medellin, high up in the hills above the city.  A Colombian man with a blue baseball cap is on the side of the highway, taking a long piss next to a cow.

Just watching him piss, pisses me off.

For about the last twenty minutes, my urge to pee has grown from mild desire to full-on, outright panic mode.  My body randomly convulses, trying to hold this piss in.  I’m involuntarily groaning.  And I’ve had to squeeze my damn Kegel muscles SO TIGHT that, were a penis inside me right now, I just might cut off his poor little air supply.

That’s pretty damn tight.

I want to jump out the window & make a run for it, find the nearest bush ~ or even just some pavement, & feel that “Sweet Jesus” moment of relief as I relieve myself.

But I can’t.  I’m stuck inside a bus with a driver who won’t let me off the bus.

Moments before, in desperation, I’d pushed my way up to the front of the bus.  “Senor!  Necessita banos!!” I said, while frantically pointing outside.  He looked at me blankly, clearly not taking much interest.

To really make my point, I point down to my crotch, then out the window.  “NECESSITA BANOS, SENOR!!!”

He just shrugs his shoulders & nod his head side-to-side.  “No.”

Por que no?!” I ask.  Like I’m really going to understand his answer.  He replies in Spanish, & I have no clue what he’s saying.  But the answer is definitely, “NO.”  Neither of us knows when this barricade will lift, & I suspect he’s telling me that, when it does lift, he’s leaving.  And if I’m on the side of the road, peeing ~ he’ll leave without me.  At this point, I’m willing to roll the dice & take my chances.  Apparently, he is not.

Pissing Over Medellin, Girl Who Travels the World

This is where I want to be: on the side of the road, pissing over Medellin.

Pissing Over Medellin

I return to my seat, exasperated.  While walking back, I realize that standing actually gives me some relief from wanting to piss all over myself, so I remain standing.  That is, until “Asshole Bus Driver” glares at me, telling me with his eyes to “sit the fuck down.”

We’re not really seeing eye-to-eye today, me & this bus driver.

I glare back at him & roll my eyes while climbing over the poor guy sitting next to me.  Almost immediately, I regret my decision.  Sitting places so much pressure on my now-full bladder that I almost squirt myself right then & there.  My anxiety needs some relief, so I begin to laugh so hard I can’t breathe.  I’ve become hysterical.  In my imagination, I see myself pissing all over this guy’s bus, & for some reason ~ the thought brings me immense pleasure.  “How you like them apples, SENOR??!”  I can’t stop laughing.  Until I look at the next guy sitting next to me, who’s giving me worried side-eye, trying not to stare.  And probably wondering what the hell is wrong with me.

How did this all happen, you ask?  How did I get myself into this Colombian predicament?

Cut to two hours prior: I’m at my favorite little cafe, having breakfast in Guatape, a town I’d grown to love, with its bright streets & colorful murals.

Pissing Over Medellin, Girl Who Travels the World, Guatape

Brightly-colored shops in Guatape, Colombia.

Pissing Over Medellin

That morning, I started with a double espresso.  Then, I guzzled two bottles of agua frio, washed down by about 16-ounces of mango juice ~ her specialty at the cafe that day.  Normally, I don’t drink juice.  But the owner offered it to me as a a gift on my last day ~ how could I refuse?

Now it’s two hours later: & I’ve got that double espresso, two bottles of water, plus 16-ounces of juice swishing around in my belly or bladder or wherever the hell it is by now.  The main pressure, though, seems to be occurring at a point right above my pussy.  It’s excruciating trying to hold it in.

Because this shit just ain’t gonna wait.

We’ve been stopped now, by the construction barricade, for about fifteen minutes.  Or my mind could be playing tricks on me…maybe its been five minutes or thirty minutes: I just don’t know.

But my bladder knows.  And she will not wait.

The crowd of motorcycles to the right of us is now approaching one-hundred strong.  If I have to piss, not only will I need to do it in front of them, but then I’ll need to pass back through them on my return to the bus.  Unless the barricade lifts before my return.  In which case, my bus ~ along with all the motorcycles, will roar the hell out of there, leaving me on the side of the road.  What would I do then….hitchhike down to Medellin, of all places?!?  And hope to find my baggage at the bus terminal??!

Don’t hitchhike in South America!”  I’d heard this warning many times during my South America research.  And to potentially be hitchhiking outside one of the most dangerous cities in the world??  Was I freaking crazy??!

I don’t know.  But I do know, sometimes you just have to say, “Fuck it.”

Pissing Over Medellin, Colombia Travel, Girl Who Travels the World

What would Pablo do?

The longer I wait, the greater the chances the barricade would lift.  I can’t even sit still at this point, the pressure on my bladder is too intense.  So I grab my purse, sling my jacket over my shoulder, & swagger to the front of the bus like a little blonde boss.  Channeling my inner Escobar.  At the front of the bus, I point to the doors & say, “Abierto!  Por favor.  NECESSITAS BANOS!!!!!”  If I knew how to say, “I’m going to piss all over your fucking bus sir & do you really want to clean that shit up?!?” I probably would have.

But I don’t need to.  The driver simply shrugs ~ but this time, he opens the doors.  The look on his face says, “If the barricade lifts, I’m leaving.  Without you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah….whatever,” I mumble in Spanglish.  

And just like that….I’m out!  I’m free!!!  This is one of the happiest moments of my life.  I do not exaggerate.

Making my way through the Medellin motorcyclists.  “Excuse me!  Pardon me!  Permisso!”  Get out ‘da way, motherfuckers!!!

I come to the edge of the highway.  There’s a barbed wire fence.  Dammit.  And a cow, staring at me from the other side.

FUCK.  IT.

I look around.  There’s a smaller guard rail just to the left that I can hop over ~ but it means I’ll be pissing in front of EVERYONE: all the motorcyclists, my entire bus, the gazillions of cars trapped here, & of course, the cow.

FUCK IT.  I make my decision within about half a second.  This is war!!  It’s an outright assault against my bladder.  What the hell do I care if a bunch of Colombians see me pissing on the side of the road??!

Answer: I don’t.

So I leap over the guardrail, drop my purse & jacket, then rip my shorts down so fast & start pissing so hard, I feel like a horse just letting it rip.  The relief is so powerful, so heady, so immediate ~ I don’t even care if I piss on my own two fucking feet.

Pissing Over Medellin, Girl Who Travels the World

Medellin, Colombia.

Pissing Over Medellin

Sweeeeeettt Jesussssss!!!!  Sweet sweet little baby Jesus!!  I see Will Ferrell beside me, in my hallucinations, wearing a burgundy suit straight out of “Anchor Man,” calmly remarking: “Surrounded by the Colombian hills & with the faint aroma of coffee & rich mahogany, Noelia squats here, taking a long, sweet pisser on the side of the highway, right above the fine, fine city of Medellin…”.

Induced by relief such as I have never known, I imagine that the godfather of Medellin himself, Mr. Pablo Escobar, is just to my left, smoking a cigar, with a half-grin, half-I-could-have-you-assassinated look on his face.

You’re pissing on top of my city, Noelia.”

Si, Pablo.  Claro.”

He gives me a vacant stare.  Then shrugs, lips turned down, & nods his head as if to say, “Fuck it.  Medellin has seen worse.”  Then he wanders away, back down the highway, towards his city.

Rarely have I ever been so happy about anything ~ ever, in my life.  That’s how good this piss is.  I pee for so long, I wonder if the bus will leave ~ not because the barricade has lifted, but simply because this is the longest piss anyone, anywhere, has ever taken.

I don’t really know.  And I don’t really care.

Pissing Over Medellin, Girl Who Travels the World

Rarely have I been so happy in my LIFE.  RELIEF!!!!!

As the danger zone passes, my body no longer flooded with adrenaline, I actually manage to take a good, hard look at the city below me, spread out across valleys of green hills.  The cow shuffles beside me.

The tall buildings, the haze that hangs in the air, the green hills that all slope down….down into the massive valley that is Medellin.  It’s all in front of me, as I finish taking the best piss of my life. 

I’m pissing over Medellin.

I think Pablo would understand.  And I think he would’ve done the same.

***Footnote to the Reader: I made it back to the bus in time, just minutes before the construction barricade lifted.  As relieved as I’ve ever been in my life.  

xoxo Noelia

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