April 11, 2007
On the Corner of Nightmare and Porcelain
Technology is advancing at an incredible pace. I can fit 80,000 songs in my pocket. My kids can video-chat with their grandfather on the other side of the country. I can cool any beverage with small squares of frozen water. It's a remarkable time to be alive.
But it all begs one, single, pressing question...
Why, at the Cat & Fiddle Pub, must I stand shoulder to shoulder with other guys and pee into a giant sink?
The "sink" I'm referring to is a "trough." And for the uninitiated, that's basically a very wide public urinal that a few establishments (despite us not living in Ancient Rome) still offer to their male patrons.
I realize that a lot of guys don't see this as a big deal. But what those guys are forgetting is, I'm a crybaby pee-shy bitch.
By the way, the only thing worse than the trough is the rare and elusive: "trough mounted in the center of the room". This allows guys to take a leak FROM BOTH SIDES AT THE SAME TIME. Call me a prude, but peeing gets less fun as staring deeply into some dude's eyes becomes an option.
My heart sank as I walked into the restroom of the Cat & Fiddle Pub last week and saw two shoes under the only stall door. When that stall is occupied, all that's left is the trough.
Luck, however, might have been on my side that night because nobody else was in restroom except for the asshole in the stall. I decided to roll the dice and unzip.
Everything was working out fine, until the complete and utter lack of bladder cooperation kicked in. A small team of beavers might as well have built a dam in my pee hole.
10 seconds went by, then 20. Then another guy came in and made his way up to the other end of the trough.
Here's where I start to feel like there's an extremely finite amount of time I can now stand there not doing anything before I look like a mental patient. Luckily there is a technique I've learned to help in these situations: Multiplication.
I don't know why it works, but it usually does. I started multiplying numbers in my head and a few seconds later the flood gates slowly opened.
I was nearly done, and it was only then did I realize the new guy at the other end of the trough was still standing there, totally not peeing. Very much like a mental patient.
I thought about mentioning the multiplication trick as I was leaving. But then I thought, "Hee hee, WHAT A PUSS," and walked out.
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