I’m afraid I really don’t have anything good to contribute to my own thread. My experiences have been confined to the mundane: New York subway, dark alley at night, side of the road on the way back to campus, the bathroom . . . you know, the usual suspects.
But what about you guys?
Well it’s not me…
One of my best guy friends has,over the years,“christened” various Chicago landmarks.
The WGN,Chicago Sun-Times and Tribune buildings,the United Center,Soldier Field and the State St Marshall Fields.
His next goal is the outfield of Comiskey Park-I threatened him w/ severe bodliy harm if he dares think of touching my beloved Wrigley Field.
Hmm we had a thread like this back in January I think…
http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/showthread.php?threadid=56655
In 1934 my grandmother, while pregnant with my dad, was sitting in a park in Mason City Iowa. John Dillinger tried to rob the bank across the street but the cops were waiting for him. In the middle of the gunfight that followed, my grandmother was lucky enough to crawl to safety.
56 years later I was living in Chicago, taking walking and El sightseeing trips for low-cost entertainment. One day I found myself at the Biograph Theater. In 1990 it shared the alley where Dillinger was shot with a Mexican restaurant whose alley wall bore a coat of bright yellow paint. Well, the wall was already yellow, and payback is sweet…
While I have always wanted to pee on the Blarney Stone, I have not. Yet.
But when I was in New Zealand, South Island, I was with a couple of rather crazy locals and a few American tourists. We went to a lake… lake… Really Cerulean Blue, yeah, that was it, and they had a monument of a sheepdog there, sitting before a stunning view of Mounts Tasman and Hood.
It started miles before in the car, when we were told that it was a monument to a particularly bad dog who went rogue and took to killing sheep, but since he was, like, the best sheepdog out there, nobody could catch him, right? Never fucking caugh’ 'im. So he’s, like, a sort of a legeend around these parts, know?
Therefore, it was customary to have your photograph taken after climbing the base of the monument and mounting the dog.
So when we got there and we all stepped forth before the monument, we Virginians naturally suggested that our hosts should precede us, so that we might not offend by violating the sacred ritual. That was, of course, politely agreed, and we all mounted the dog, Kiwis first.
In front of a bus filled with Japanese tourists. I don’t want to create any stereotypes, here, but I saw a lot of cameras.
Well, it didn’t exactly stop there. We were, after all, in somewhat of a hurry, and there was a discernable line in front of what the thing was that our guests were insisting were “no facilities, whatsoever.”
That’s when I think it was decided that it was customary to pee on the lee side of the dog monument, facing the busload of Japanese tourists. I know I smiled for the cameras, though the monument was too tall to catch a short guy like me from the bus. No worries; several bold photographers ventured forth from the bus to document the ritual, though most were content to use their imaginations.
Come to think of it, this silly event has to be on the Internet somewhere by now. I’ll try to find it.
My apologies to the great nation of New Zealand in advance: you are the greatest place on earth, and I hope you will someday allow me to come back. And I love dogs, too.
Guests, hosts… that’s the most obnoxious thing about we Americans, we walk around like we bloody own the place, no matter where we are. But hey, at leastyou know I’m an asshole now. I believe it’s Lake Tekapo of which I speak.
Yeah… I fucked him, then peed on him.
Off Putney Bridge into the river Thames, New Years Eve 1993.That was a bad night, I worked in a wine shop in Putney and we had our piss up above the shop in the managers flat. The great thng was that we could just nip down when be ran out of drink and grab some more.
You know how you’re not supposed to have a hangover with champagne, bullshit, worst hangover of my life.
Hey and I know that sheep dog, although I think that it’s a statue to sheep dogs in general. I will never think of it in the same way again.
A family vacation to China; I was nine and we were on a bus. I desperately needed to pee, but it was the only available transport and very far from its destination. So in a very crowded bus, somewhere near the coast of China, I peed in a complimentary QANTAS travel bag.
Needed to take a leak on a road trip (I wasn’t driving), so I opened the passenger side door while we drove down the road at about 70, leaned against it and peed off the side of the road. The driver kept slowing down and I’d yell for him to speed up, because I was kinda leaning against the door’s air resistance.
My uncle peed off the Golden Gate Bridge, but he was a little boy at the time.
O.K., it had been a looooonnnng road trip from SF to Dallas, TX. It was the middle of the night ---- we were checking out Dealey Plaza — we had to go baaaaad ---- the only place to go without being seen was this spot behind a wooden fence ---- that’s right, The Grassy Knoll.
I just this week took a leak off a bridge with dozens of people watching. There was a car wreck and we were stalled for well over an hour, standing still. I couldn’t very well abandon my car for the long walk to the other side, and there was no “cover” there either, that I could see.
I did manage to have an overcoat in the car, so my private parts stayed private, but I felt like a flasher, none the less.
When I was a kid, once I peed in my sister’s bathwater.
Funny, I peed in your sister’s bathwater too. 
I said it in the other thread, but I’ll say it again:
Onto a sea lion.
In the Andes Mtns. at 13,000 feet, somewhere between Lima and Huancayo. My girlfriend was squatting beside me (leaking also), with her dad waiting up in the car.
Other than in my own pants, I can’t recall any unusual places that I’ve taken a leak. I did, however, manage to throw up not only at, but actually on, the men’s necktie counter at Macy’s in New York at about 1:30 in the afternoon. I was on a high school trip, had a hangover that would have killed an elephant, and just couldn’t stop myself. You can imagine what the most talked about moment of the trip was for all concerned.
About 15 years ago, I was out with some friends, I live on the coast in Texas, so we were drinking at a park on the bay, and I had to go, so I walked to the edge of the concrete embankment, wizzed in the Gulf of Mexico, then as I was zipping up, I slipped on the concrete and fell into the ocean. My friends loved it. I heard about that for a long time. I was soaked with ocean water on a Saturday night. Did I go home to change? No, the beat went on, baby.
Hey, I was 16, like any of us gave a damn.
>In a trashcan in the Cleveland subway
>In midair while rapelling down Sycamore Canyon in Arizona
> In a guy’s mouth (he asked me to)
3:30 in the morning, off the brink of Niagara falls (Viewing area-Canadian side) And then a cop on horseback came out of the darkness to see what we we’re up to. Lesson learned: It is impossible to take half a leak.
Another time I went to bed really really drunk, and during the night, I had to take a leak. Now, once or twice, I actually peed right in the bed, I was passed out cold.
Well, this time, I was sleeping in a position where I was spooning my girlfriend, and she said she woke up to a strong steady stream of pee hitting her back! :eek:
I spent the rest of the night on the couch.