I just heard a news story about a 27-year-old serial urinator in Jersey City who was targeting women to pee on. He would walk up behind them, drop his drawers and proceed to take a leak on the back of their legs. The story made me think first about Golden Showers and then public urination. So I’ve reflected on all the times I’ve seen people pee, smelled pee in the streets and peed in public myself. NOT peed myself in public.
If you’ve ever been to New York City, especially in the subway, you have indeed smelled a waft of powerful pee-pee at one time or another. If you’ve ever strolled through the narrow streets of Paris dodging dog sh**, you’ll surely catch a whiff of a potent bouquet of yellow tinkle. Whether it’s in a public restroom or on a deserted street , pee is ever-present.
When I lived in France we used to hang out by the Seine River and drink Champagne. One night Chantal, Vivaldo and I were hanging out on a bench sipping some Bubbly. After several trips to the café toilette, climbing up and down the steps got old, so with Chantal’s urging we decided to “go” where we were. We waited for a group of people to pass by, pulled down our pants, hung onto the back of the bench and peed. This was my first time. You always remember your first time – oh wait – that’s another blog.
When I was hanging out in Belgium with JoAnne, Guy & Éric, taking a whiz on the wall was an everyday pleasure for the men-folk. When Kenny and I drank too many nips, I found a spot in the woods to mark my territory. Aren’t we all about marking our territory anyway?
One night my friend Lori and I were out dancing and drinking at FM Station on 23. I hit the ladies before I left but I guess Lori forgot. We were driving back to her house and all of sudden she said she had to pee so bad and couldn’t hold it. We were on a tree-lined, almost empty street, so I told her to pull over and go. She stopped the car and I thought that she was going to run over to the side of the road and pee in the bushes. Boy, was I wrong! She swung open the door and whizzed on the yellow line in the middle of the street. I laughed so hard I think I peed too.
When I was thrown in Monmouth County jail for striking with 227 other teachers, I didn’t pee for 24 hours plus. I waited until I got home and took an epic one and the longest shower of my life. I felt so dirty.
Once my husband and I were going to Newark Airport to fly out to Miami for a college graduation. This was the first time I was going to fly since 9-11 and I was a nervous wreck. My doctor gave me Valium for the plane ride but I needed a little courage to get on the plane. We were at my dad’s, 10 minutes from the airport, and I drank quite a bit of wine. I tinkled at least 3 times before I left Bloomfield yet couldn’t make it to the terminal. John pulled over on a dark, Newark side street with limited people milling around. I opened the door and peed between the car and a truck hoping no one would notice. Sorry Mayor Booker. It seemed to take forever with the impending danger of being “found out”. Maybe stage fright again?
There are porn pee-ers, private pee-ers and public pee-ers – we all pee, yet some are shyer than others. So when did piddling on unsuspecting people become societal behavior? Hey, in private, with 2 consenting adults… whatever floats your boat. BUT who would have ever imagined that someone would actually violate another person with his urine straight from the source?
I didn’t, but then again, we have a socialist in the White House, so I guess anything can happen.