It seems I am not capable of going to New York City without returning with a story. Remember my story from a couple years ago when a baby walked into the bar I was playing at? Well this most recent trip was no different…
After playing a show at Googies Lounge on the Lower East Side a couple weeks back, a few friends and I ended up at a bar in Astoria. After a long day and night and a few bladder filling cocktails, it was finally time to go to bed. But first we had to drop one friend off at the train station, followed by a 45 minute car ride to yet another friends house at which we were staying. It was very early in the car ride that I had the realization that there was a 0.0% chance of making it back to his house before having to go to the bathroom. Widely recognized as the weakest of bladders among my fellow humans, tonight was a decisive loss in the battle against it’s sworn enemy: beer.
I drove around looking for a restaurant. No luck. I kept my eyes open for a bar with a glowing “Open” sign. No luck. I looked for a wooded lot amidst the neighborhoods of suburban Astoria. No luck. At this point, I would have happily taken a construction site porta-potty covered in horse manure. I decided I had no choice: I just had to park on a relatively dark street and go in the nearest bush.
The row houses on the particular street I chose were not far off the road. There were only about 5 feet between the front doors and the sidewalks. But there it was, a beautiful bush next to a door in a dark street at 3am in New York City. Nobody within a mile of this place is awake. A guy peeing outside: this can’t be THAT unusual right?
As I gracefully started the “relief process”, I noticed a woman at the other end of the street walking on the very sidewalk that eventually leads to where I was standing. I remember very distinctly thinking that I had plenty of time to wrap things up. However as she got closer, I realized that there was no end in sight. I made the decision to quietly continue on with my mission, hoping she walks right by me and chalks it up to crazy New Yorkers doing what they do.
That plan seemed fine until she got right behind me and yelled “This is NOT a bathroom!”. My slight embarrassment turned to guilt when I realized that she was just a couple feet away from me, unlocking her door. Yup, I was peeing on her house. Not AT her house, but ON her house. What the hell are the chances of that? I didn’t say a word. Just got in my car and left.
Totally worth it.
After playing a show at Googies Lounge on the Lower East Side a couple weeks back, a few friends and I ended up at a bar in Astoria. After a long day and night and a few bladder filling cocktails, it was finally time to go to bed. But first we had to drop one friend off at the train station, followed by a 45 minute car ride to yet another friends house at which we were staying. It was very early in the car ride that I had the realization that there was a 0.0% chance of making it back to his house before having to go to the bathroom. Widely recognized as the weakest of bladders among my fellow humans, tonight was a decisive loss in the battle against it’s sworn enemy: beer.
I drove around looking for a restaurant. No luck. I kept my eyes open for a bar with a glowing “Open” sign. No luck. I looked for a wooded lot amidst the neighborhoods of suburban Astoria. No luck. At this point, I would have happily taken a construction site porta-potty covered in horse manure. I decided I had no choice: I just had to park on a relatively dark street and go in the nearest bush.
The row houses on the particular street I chose were not far off the road. There were only about 5 feet between the front doors and the sidewalks. But there it was, a beautiful bush next to a door in a dark street at 3am in New York City. Nobody within a mile of this place is awake. A guy peeing outside: this can’t be THAT unusual right?
As I gracefully started the “relief process”, I noticed a woman at the other end of the street walking on the very sidewalk that eventually leads to where I was standing. I remember very distinctly thinking that I had plenty of time to wrap things up. However as she got closer, I realized that there was no end in sight. I made the decision to quietly continue on with my mission, hoping she walks right by me and chalks it up to crazy New Yorkers doing what they do.
That plan seemed fine until she got right behind me and yelled “This is NOT a bathroom!”. My slight embarrassment turned to guilt when I realized that she was just a couple feet away from me, unlocking her door. Yup, I was peeing on her house. Not AT her house, but ON her house. What the hell are the chances of that? I didn’t say a word. Just got in my car and left.
Totally worth it.