In my never-ending quest to clutter my iPhone with apps whose primary purpose, ultimately, is to drain battery life, I recently installed what could best be described as a cross between a futurist and a urologist.
The app is RunPee, and it has been getting boatloads of press following the release of Avengers: Endgame, a movie that grossed $1.2 billion on its opening weekend, more money than Democratic presidential candidates will raise collectively before all dropping out of the race upon realizing their fundraisers were being attended solely by close relatives. President Trump will win a second term in 2020, narrowly defeating a cute puppy.
Clocking in at just over three hours, Avengers: Endgame is a film moviegoers might not be able to sit through in its entirety, particularly if said moviegoer is slurping the “small,” 64-ounce soda from the refreshment stand. Eventually, the need to urinate will overpower the need to hear pivotal dialogue between Thor and Stormbreaker.
Incidentally, I had to Google “Avengers characters and plotlines” for I am one of approximately 16 people on Earth who has never seen an Avengers movie and has no plans to see Avengers: Endgame, also known as “absolutely the last Avengers movie until we tally up the final box office and reconsider.”
The rest of Earth’s population is downloading RunPee, which suggests optimal “Peetimes” for relieving yourself, thereby ensuring you won’t miss the good stuff. Mind you, Avengers: Endgame is not the only film connected to RunPee; there is an impressive list of movies either lengthy (Titanic) or suspenseful (A Quiet Place), where a poorly-timed bathroom break could ruin the movie-going experience.
Need to pee during Star Wars: The Last Jedi? RunPee suggests you hold it for 53 minutes, excusing yourself when Rose says, “OK, we get in, find the codebreaker and get out.” How about Finding Dory? There are three potential Peetimes listed, although my suggestion would be, “Whenever, because the entire movie sucks.”
Invasive as it sounds, I find RunPee’s concept to be quite brilliant. So brilliant that I wonder why its use is limited to your neighborhood multiplex. I have found myself in numerous environments where I uncomfortably squirm, feeling my bladder about to burst but I am unwilling, or unable, to run for the restroom. I could make it easier on myself by shunning Diet Cokes before noon, or limiting myself to a single cup of morning coffee, but I don’t have the willpower. So RunPee developers, may I suggest a few alternative locations for your app:
Church. I can usually make it to about the 40-minute mark of a one-hour service before my bladder begins speaking to my brain. Perhaps RunPee could get advance copies of my pastor’s sermons and suggest a moment to exit the pew? That would be in addition to the universal church service Peetime: Whenever the ushers appear with collection plates.
Airplanes. I dread the “We are making our final approach, please remain in your seats for the duration of the flight,” announcement, for I know that “final approach” is plane-speak for “upward of 30 minutes.” RunPee, could you please suggest some ideal times to relieve myself at 35,000 feet? Also, please let me know the number of fellow passengers who are congregating at the plane’s rear lavatory awaiting their turn.
College lectures. Academic professors, I know you are passionate about your fields of study. But remember, each member of your audience most likely slammed two Red Bulls so they could stay awake during your 70-minute talk on 18th-century Russian literature. Sooner or later, something’s going to give.
Family holiday dinners. RunPee, please let me know if a relative is going to begin a sentence with, “And HERE’S why President Trump deserves another term.” To avoid seeming rude, I will leave the table approximately 90 seconds before those words are uttered. Also, RunPee, please let me know when it’s safe to return.
I’d like to exit the bathroom before the 2020 election .
