Yesterday, I cut out of work a few minutes early (sorry, Dan), so I could hit the Katy Trail before my fantasy football draft. We were running up against the Packers-Saints game, and since I was the only person in the draft that wasn’t on East Coast time, I had to suffer.
Running north on the trail, a little past Fitzhugh, I spotted a running stroller off to the side of the trail. I didn’t think much of it until I saw a tiny leg sticking out from the carriage. My mind immediately went to that scene in Hook, where Robin Williams’ Peter Pan character is left in a park. But I digress.
A second later, a guy who I assume was the babe’s father exits from the bamboo, adjusting himself along the way. I was immediately pleased to realize that I would not need to rear this child as my own, and I carried on with my run, displeased but not disgusted.
Then the run took a nasty right turn.
Less than two minutes later, I’m still running north on the trail when I spot my Katy Trail nemesis. (Note: she does not know we’re nemeses (nemisises?), but I have built her up as a sort-of Evil Stepmother of the Trail.) Wearing her usual Madeline-esque straw hat, she suddenly disappears off the trail, leaving a friend on the pavement.
As I pass, I see her squatting, in plain view, on the edge of the bamboo. Not nestled in the bamboo, or, you know, IN A BATHROOM, but less than 10 feet from the edge of the trail. Buns in the breeze.
At this point I was about ready to yack into the nearest trash can, but I maintained my composure despite wanting to wave down the nearest bike cop and share my sordid tales. (In my fantasy, he would throw me on the back spokes and we’d cruise the trail looking for the offenders. I’d receive a hefty reward for nabbing the Trail Tinklers, and the cop and I would probably become best friends, or at least basketball buddies.)
I kept running until I hit Knox, and doubled back to my apartment; I had to use the bathroom.