It’s no secret that I embarrass myself on a regular basis. I’ve farted in a trainer’s face, a woman once congratulated me on my diarrhea, and I even confessed to taking a dump in an empty Porta Potty. Needless to say, I spend the majority of my time and energy trying to see if a person can actually die of humiliation.
Something else that people know about me is that I love to hike. I love the smell of the mountain air. I love the view at the top. I love being one of those annoying people on Facebook who posts dozens of photos to prove that her ass hasn’t yet melded with her couch.
“Come on Maury, hurry up. I need to know if he’s the father.”
I had been wanting to do one particular trail in the Columbia River Gorge, and finally managed to get out there a few weeks ago. Most hikes have bathrooms at their trail heads, but once you’re out there, you’re on your own.
This hike was listed as “easy” but I quickly learned it’s only easy if you’re Jillian Michaels on methamphetamines. I trudged my way up the 478 switchbacks, drinking a ton of water along the way. Eventually my bladder decided it was quittin’ time, and I had to find a place to pee.
This wasn’t easy to do because the trail is narrow, and there aren’t really any places to hide while you urinate all over Mother Nature. I was going to have to pick a spot and chance it.
There is a point in this particular trail where it takes a slight detour out to a view point. I decided this would be ideal because some people might bypass it and continue on, and even if they did walk out, I’d hear them and have a chance to collect myself.
I looked up and down the main trail, and didn’t see anyone coming. I quickly ran over to the end, steadied myself between a bushy area and the ledge, and pulled down my pants.
Actual scene of the crime
Midstream I heard someone coming. Based on the timing of the footsteps I knew the person was jogging towards me. Jogging, shit. I hadn’t accounted for that, and I knew there wasn’t enough time to pull up my pants and act naturally.
Any second the this person would round this corner, and there I’d be, pissing all over Oregon’s splendor. The only way to completely avoid the jogger was to back up and fall to my death.
I panicked…
I stood up…
He appeared a split second later…
My vagina was on full display.
Jogger’s reaction to seeing my sausage wallet
There was a moment when we both had to acknowledge that my labia was just chillin’ like a villain. He looked slightly confused. It could have been because I was naked from the waist down, or it could have been because I hadn’t shaved since Nixon was in office. He may have thought he somehow stumbled upon a centaur.
He was a merciful soul, and turned around and disappeared as quickly as he had appeared. No awkward, “Hey, nice vagina!” or “Can you please move your Furby, you’re blocking the view.” He knew the right thing to do was to leave.
I waited awhile, and then made my way back down the trail. When I got to the bottom, park rangers had set up a small table with information on our state parks. As I walked by, one of the rangers asked me if I had seen anything interesting while I was on the trail. I simply replied, “No, but I know one guy who did.”
Sips of Jen and Tonic 
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