Too many to recount: the time I almost got hit by a semi leaving the store on my bike after I bought diapers, the time a clerk mistook me for a girl and pointed me towards the female goodnites, the time someone thought I was stealing diapers and tackled me, but I think I have one that tops em all: the time in upstate New York. Basically, I'm from the Midwest and I have family scattered all across the country, from Hawaii to flordia, they're all over the USA, so sometimes I had to be dragged to an unfamiliar location for a family event. One of those times I was dragged deep into upstate New York and we stopped at a rest stop overnight, it was a 24/7 rest stop that was filled with many semi trucks in the parking lot and just as many drunk truckers roaming about. This was at around 9PM and we had been driving since this time yesterday so we wouldn't be late for whatever family event was going on this time. Being the 13 year old kid I was at the time, I was a bit stupid and I was seeking an adrenalin rush, so I wore a diaper and tried my best not to get caught (I should mention now that I had been wearing diapers for around 3 and a half years at this point and was pretty good about changing routinely). Well I had disregarded changing for around 12 hours at this point and logically, I was absolutely soaked (yes, back then I actually used my diapers instead of just using them as an accent to my fursuit). Back then we still had an old station wagon as our travel vehicle as we didn't want to damage our good truck, so we just drove a rusted oldsmobile and prayed that it would take us where we were going. So here I was, sitting in a beaten up Cierra, in the middle of god knows where USA, in a wet, almost leaking diaper, I needed a way out of this situation to change myself and eat something (everyone else was just gonna wait til breakfest and buy some mcdonalds from the on site resturaunt that had just been built). So I waited until everyone was asleep and I acted like I was sleeping in the front passenger seat, I must have waited two hours and now I was having a minor leak. So I kicked the door panel (if you kicked it just right it would temporarily disable the door ajar chime) and then opened it up and slid out with my diaper/supply bag then darted to the rest stop and went inside. Once inside, I went to the restrooms and laid down my change mat I had bought from a goodwill back home, then laid down and cleaned myself up. When I reached for a new diaper I found out that I was shit out of luck, I had used the last one, so here I am, laying on a vinyl change mat in a rest stop bathroom while half way through a diaper change. I realize that I have to go out there and buy a new pack of diapers, that is, if they even have some out there (this place was a trash fest, they didn't even have a drink cooler, just cardboard boxes of warm, flat drinks). So after I pack up my supplies, I go out there and try to locate any diapers, boy, was I in luck. This store had old stock to rival any corner family store, stuff dating back to before I was even born, all at crazy cheap prices, along with modern stuff right next door. I go and find a box to put some stuff in, and then start filling the crate full of things that I'm pretty sure you guys would covet if you could ever find them. I was putting packages of Plastic Pampers, some of those gender specific huggies, some early 90's depends, even some early attends (like, 81 or 82 era), and some other vintage treasures, then I bought a package of modern huggies for me to use. Now your probably thinking, what is nightmare about this, this sounds like paradise and I would pay to be there, well it was, until I got to the front checkout with a cardboard box of vintage diapers, and only $7.00 in my pocket. Thus started a negotiation war that would rival most stuff on reality tv shows about couponers, I finally talked the dude down to seven dollars and the hooded sweatshirt off my back, which I payed $50.00 for right before we left. So I finished diapering up, hid my finds in our small tool trailer (think of a covered trailer with some cupboards and shelves inside for tools, I crammed the finds into a locked cupboard and "lost" the key). Cut to the morning, about 5 miles down the road when someone asks where my sweatshirt went, I make up a lie about how I must have lost it and then spend the rest of the trip being chastised for being irresponsible. In other words, it was a retail nightmare since I lost my 50 dollar sweatshirt, and had to walk onto a showroom floor without any undergarments. And for the record, yes, I still have every thing I scored that night stored in a clost, but I don't want to haul it out and risk damaging it (I just like to keep it nice and safe).
