What Jat really needed was go to the bathroom. He was late enough as it was and he new for a fact that between his train stop and the office there were no public toilets. He watched a fat guy drink 32 ounces of lemon lime Gatorade in about three gulps. A few drops dribbled down the portly fellow's stubbly chin and onto his basketball jersey. He felt every slight bump and jerk of the train. Jat crossed his legs and tried put his mind off his bladder. He began eavesdropping on the conversation of two old ladies.
"I thought the rain would never stop last night."
"I was terrible out our place. We got over two inches!"
As the doors opened Jat pushed himself rudely past other riders. He got out onto the street ready to run. He felt a tingling that signified imminent urination. He got to Main and Waverly, the busiest intersection downtown. He put his foot on street but had to draw it back immediately as a large truck zoomed by. He was splashed from the waste down with filthy street water that had pooled due to plugged up gutter.
"Oh man, you're soaked." said a voice.
Jat looked down at his trousers now sopping wet. He was relieved.