25 minutes on: desperately having to pee

A relatable predicament

Once, on a long drive with my grandpa, he pulled the car over, went over to the edge of the woods, and peed. 

I recall being in awe that this was a thing that could be done. I remember the full image of it-- his back to the road and the car, his faded jeans sagging as he did the deed, his making his way back to the car, undoubtedly much more comfortable, happily continuing the drive. 

Of course, I’ve seen many a man perform just this deed countless times since then, and it never ceases to make me jealous. In fact, I see the occasional ultra-crude man whip it out and piss on the side of a building in full view of anyone who might be passing by  (in far too many cases me) and it still never ceases to amaze (and slightly depress) me to contemplate the confidence and entitlement that comes with having a penis. (This penis-having comes with many, many more entitlements than the ability to pee in public). 

Today, I desperately had to pee as I often do when I’m out and about. Out and about can mean a handful of errands in the car or on a bike or even on foot, and there is rarely any convenient place to relieve myself. I try my best to mitigate this predicament at every bend, including religiously peeing, not once but twice, before leaving the house, and then subsequently peeing in every available public bathroom I possibly can, even if I don’t have to pee in that very moment, because releasing even an ounce of pee can have an effect on how badly I might have to pee later. 

People are often commenting on how much I pee, and really, I don’t have to pee all that much more often than other people, it’s just that I don’t want to have to pee badly down the line. So I try to be prepared. 

Still, today, even though I peed before leaving the restaurant where I had lunch, I had to pee again less than 30 minutes later after picking up a cake (my birthday cake!) from a bakery. As soon as I got back into the car with the cake, I knew this was going to be a problem. I had one other errand to run, to pick up some items before a trip, and I knew there would be no bathroom at this particular store, nor at any of the nearby stripmall establishments, and if I went into the nearby mall, I would be wandering aimlessly within its corridors, and inevitably I would probably find it and have to use a code, and then I would be in a worse situation. 

I googled nearby coffee shops, but finding only Starbucks, had vision of long lines for venti lattes, and having to get a receipt with a bathroom code upon it, and I was instantly depressed. I had two perfectly good espressos at home in the morning, and the last thing I wanted was a coffee, with a receipt, with a bathroom code on it,  so that I could pee. I started to point the car in the direction of home, but missed my freeway exit. 

It’s at this juncture of  having to pee that one has to start exercising pure mind over matter. Options are few in an urban setting: pee your pants, pull over the car and pee in a public setting, or hold it. Really, there is only one choice.

Once, walking home from the bus stop in high school, I peed my pants. I didn’t even realize I had to pee that badly, but suddenly the urge was upon me, I peed right there in my apartment building vestibule, and mercifully no neighbors came through to see me standing there, just as surprised as they would have been. Humiliated, I went inside and changed my clothes, miserably. I never told a soul. Until now.

I don’t think I’ve ever peed my pants before or since then, and I’m grateful. The shame of that day has stayed with me. I’ve become an expert pee-holder, though I’m saddened that this has to be a part of my skill set. I can hardly put it on a resume, right? 

Most cities, and I would include this one, have no way to address this very human of needs, and when the urge strikes throughout the day, there are few ways to deal with it. If you walk into any establishment just needing to pee and don’t plan to buy anything for the privilege, prepare to be disabused of your idea. There used to be a day where a person could walk into a random McDonalds, or a Target, or even an independent establishment, and ask to use the restroom, and you would often be granted access. No more. Bathroom codes grace nearly every public bathroom. You know this already, but I think it needs to be said aloud. It’s one of my many complaints about this society.

In Japan, public restrooms are around nearly every corner, and as David Sedaris described them, are “aggressively clean.” Seriously, you can imagine a person discreetly going in and wiping down every surface after every single use, and I think they do just that. Without hyperbole,  you could eat off of the floor in these bathrooms. 

But when you desperately have to pee, you’ll settle even for a very grungy bathroom, hovering above the toilet as every woman has been conditioned to do, and let fly. Recently, on a road trip in France, I desperately had to pee and asked Sean to pull over at what looked like a coffee shop. I walked into what turned out to be a casino, not a sandwich shop, so I could not pee unless I wanted to gamble, which I did not. . 

Finally, we saw what looked like the French equivalent of a portapotty, and I had him go careening that way. When I opened the door, the stalactites of poop were literally piled higher than the rim of the seat. I got back into the car, had him drive to a thicket of woods, and did it there. 

Peeing in the woods, on a pile of leaves, feels liberating-- or maybe that’s just the sweet, sweet relief of finally getting to pee, even though you inevitably get a little pee on your shoes. It’s just a shame that it has to come to this. 

By the way, I’m writing this from a coffee shop where I just had to buy a $6 can of tea for the privilege of peeing. In 30 minutes, I’ll have to pee again, thanks to this tea, and be right back where I began. 

Life is nothing if not circular.