Stomach Pain

I had just finished my evening shift at the Wallgreens downtown. You know, the one across from Millennium Park that all the tourists come to. "Where is Grant Park? Where is State Street? Where can I find the Red Line train?" This time of year answers are our main product; that and lots of water, soda pop, and candy bars. Thankfully we're coming to the end of it. With autumn comes the return to normalcy, but I can feel the summer exhaustion set in. The hours 8PM to 11PM drag on, punishing, dragging like an Egyptian slave drags a block of the pyramids. Is this what I will remember from the summer before my senior year of high school?

The trips home after that shift are always the longest. The number 56 bus and I have become the best of friends. 11:04PM and I wait at the lonely stop. A family is beside me.

Joseph and Samuel, two brothers, not tourists. Joseph was no more than 7. He had the body of the boy who would be picked last for every sport in gym class. He had clearly been overfed on a diet that would tie his stomach up in knots for years. It's something I could relate to, but I thought it better not to give any unsolicited advice that this moment.

His parents. Overwhelmed (and in physical appearance, clearly of contrasting philosophies on diet and health). Joseph and Samuel were done with the city. They wanted to get home and they were vocal. More importantly, Joseph wanted to go to the bathroom—.

So, Joseph had to go potty. He made that much clear to his father. He made that much clear to his mother. He would have made that much clear to his little brother Samuel, if he didn't so desperately have to go potty. But this was downtown and for the family from the suburbs, downtown Chicago doesn't exactly present a lot of options when its 11PM and your child is on the verge of explosion.

Joseph began yanking at his father's arm, holding his other hand against his stomach. His mother began panicking. Now was the time to offer my unsolicited advice. I told them which buses would get them to the Metra station as quickly as possible. Joseph's parents debated. I told them that there weren't many other options at this hour. Joseph cried out again that he had to go potty. They looked for an available bus, but none were coming. Joseph moaned in pain, and his father took action. Joseph's father took him by the hand and stated that they were going to find a place now. A waste of time. He began to walk away when he realized that Joseph was not with him. Joseph had gone potty.

It was 11:12PM. I was waiting for the number 56 bus.