It’s been almost 13.5 years since this was last posted in!
Zombie pee!
You know that thread about how to become an “established poster?” In the thread, talked about when they clicked on a thread because of who had the last comment.
I looked at the title of this thread, saw you had posted, and clicked. I’m disappointed, I was expecting your story.
For having a zombie thread reopened, I liked the story from our new poster.
Okay.
Back in 1976 I was in the US Army. My section was traveling to a field deployment, for training.
Partway there the trucks stopped on a cloverleaf highway. Some folks took the opportunity to get out and pee. Now, for you guys it’s just turning your face to the deuce and a half and taking care of business. For me and the one other female soldier it was more involved. We just looked at each other, walked around to the other side of the truck, squatted and took care of business. Of course our side of the truck was where the ground sloped away, exposing our bare backsides to any traffic down around the curve. At least we wouldn’t be recognized.
Forgot to mention, I was overseas in Korea when this happened.
And let’s just say, getting used to peeing in off-base toilets was quite and experience. They were mostly ceramic tiled trenches in the places I was at.
That’s funny.
Once, at an all-day, outdoor Reggie concert in Tokyo, I had to pee really bad. There was a crowd of several thousand and the toilets were a long ways away. So I just peed there. In my pants. OK, for a little background to the story, it had started to rain really hard. At first we tried using plastic sheets for cover but the wind was blowing and we were completely soaked. It was warm, and we were having fun (as well as being somewhat drunk and somewhat young) so everyone just kept on drinking and dancing. I told my friend that I had to go pee, and he suggested I just pee in my pants since we were soaked to the bone.
I peed in the Atlantic Ocean and the Pacific Ocean . . . in the same day. And no, I wasn’t in Panama or Tierra del Fuego.
In my hair cutter’s / beautician bathroom sink.
I come in late for a 5:30 haircut, probably the last customer of the day, and I gotta go!
I see an “out of order” on the door but no one’s around and I figure it’s a bunch of women but a guy can fix it. :rolleyes: I look in the toilet tank and there’s no obvious problem, they’ve turned the water off, and times a’wastin’. So I turn to the sink, get relief, rinse well, and wipe everything with paper towels so no one’s the wiser. No harm no foul… 
OK ------ zombie and all that --------
Second floor guest room window in my house. I wanted to see if I could actually hit my neighbors house. I did.
(I contend that if you can pee from your house and hit a neighbor, your neighborhood is too damn close)
kopek, that sounds like the neighborhood my father spent his teen years in. He and his mom moved to Buffalo New York, from Nebraska. He said the houses were so close together he could hardly stand it. Once, when he saw the opening credits of All in the Family, where you see the neighborhood, he said that’s what his neighborhood looked like.
You beat what I was going to say. I peed in both oceans last week…once in Miami, and once on the Pacific side of Panama a few days later.
This summer, in an old, decaying porta-potty…about 50 yards into the woods!
We could not figure out how it got there (or why). We believe it was hand carried in there, but given it’s condition, it might actually have been there before the trees as we couldn’t fathom why people would carry it so far into the woods that it was almost not visible from the clearing.
Gee, I wonder why he’s your ex-boyfriend.
I’m a woman too, so it’s harder for me to have a funny story.
p.s. I just realized that this is a resurrected zombie thread.
Against a community hall wall.
Along with a judge, a prosecutor, a cop, and a clerk (I was a defence attorney).
That was in a remote fly-in community.
The next day, back in the city, I watched a fellow plead guilty for pissing on the back wall of a slummy hotel bar after closing hours.
Sometimes life’s incongruities are not fair.
Most likely, there used to be a house nearby, and the house has long since been torn down but the outhouse wasn’t.
Wait - was it a porta-potty, like those plastic ones you see all over, or an honest-to-goodness outhouse?
Me [del]pee[/del] too.
In the elevator after observing a Court of Appeal session, one of my friends, a woman, laughed at a joke, and wet herself. Well, wet herself was an understatement.
Then the elevator door opened and people started to get on . . . :eek:
I pee on zombies.
But seriously, I regularly stop on the highway, go into the bushes and let fly. Also in a hidden corner of my back yard. Most European hotels don’t (or didn’t used to) have toilets in the room but they often have a washstand. I’ve peed in them lots.
But here is my oddest place. Nov. 12, 1968, my first year in Montreal. The forecast was for a bit of snow. I took my car to the dealer’s that morning to have it winterized. Antifreeze, oil change, snow tires. They said it would be ready around 3. So at 2 O’clock I went to the nearest bus stop to get on the bus that goes directly to the car dealer, a distance of about 3 miles. It was starting to snow fairly heavily so I put galoshes on over my shoes. I got there by 3, but the car wasn’t ready until 4. So I got in the car and started driving home, a drive that should take no more than 15 minutes without traffic. Well, there was traffic a-plenty, slipping and sliding all over the place. I had snow tires on but no one else did. It seemed that everyone was totally unprepared. To make a long story short it took 4 hours to get home. About halfway, I had to pee very badly. Totally stopped in traffic, I took off one galosh, peed into it, opened the car done and spilled it into the snow. When I got home I washed out my galosh.
The little bit of snow turned into 13.6". You could look it up.
Well it all goes back to a time when I was much younger and childless and dating. My GF and I had decided to head to NY State for a 3 day weekend to visit wine country. Evidently, in The Finger Lakes, there were 80 vineyards w/i 20 miles and being young and impulsive, we wanted to try them all.
Now, we drove up there Friday night, so it wasn’t until Saturday that we could visit and it was glorious. I was driving and barely tasted a thing, but my GF was having everything but the heavy dessert wines at every vineyard. We made it through 8 vineyards before we stopped, which may just be a good lesson to the reader: friends, don’t try to drink more than 8 vineyards worth of wine in one day. No, Really. After lunch, my GF was still quite buzzed & told me to take her back to the hotel by going up the opposite side of the lake, where I had never been before. I had reservations, as she was the navigator, but she said,
“Just keep the water on your right and go straight and you’ll be fine.”
So, I started to drive and she started to nap, which should have been no surprise to anyone. I drove and I did go straight… and I did keep the water on my right. The road was beautiful… and then we went up a hill, down a valley, and up a hill…
and that water was Gone!
“Honey?” I inquired of the woman genteelly snoring in the passenger seat. “Wake up. Where do I turn? Which road? What highway number?”
Alas, after 8 vineyards such subtleties were lost on her. Then, as if by magic, we went up a hill, down a valley, and up a hill… and would you believe it? There was water on my right again! I was so happy, I just enjoyed the rest of the drive,
changing radio stations as needed and letting her get a well-deserved rest. Eventually her eyes started to flutter and she sat up in her seat and she rejoined the world… and it was just about then when trouble struck. That beautifully scenic county highway?
Would you believe that it actually came to a “T”?
“Honey? You have the map. Which way do we turn?”
“Dammit! You must have turned! There’s No Way this road comes to a “T”.
“No… no I drove straight….”
“Well turn right and we’ll ask someone where you turned off. Still… that IS awfully big to be a Finger Lake.”
So, I turned right … and into a scenic little town called Sodus Point, NY. She was right, by the way. It WAS awfully big to be a Finger Lake.
Please let the record show that Lake Ontario always is. 
But I digress….
The next day was Sunday morning and we still wanted to visit vineyards. To be fair, this time we did a LOT less than 8 before we headed back to the hotel room. It was about 15 minutes into the drive, however, that I felt a light tap on my leg from my GF.
“Honey, could you find a gas station? I gotta go.”
It was a simple request, plainly stated, and I bumped the accelerator pedal to have us drive 10 MPH faster as I looked for an open gas station. Now the thing is, back in the day, some smaller towns in western NY were pretty much closed on Sundays,
gas stations and all. I was trying hard, but not ten minutes later there were a series of harder punches to my leg.
“Honey? Did you forget about me? I really need to go…”
So, I bumped that peddle a little harder and we went another 10 MPH faster on my search for any open business. To be fair, I wasn’t having any luck at all and not ten minutes later my leg was getting punched just as hard as she could throw a fist.
All pretenses were gone as she said,
“Dammit! Find me some place to pee before I pee on the seat!!!”
To say I was startled and in some pain may be an understatement, but to say that I was doing the speed limit would be an out-and-out lie. I punched the gas pedal down, looking for some sign of any place that she could go pee…
when A Sign appeared… as if by God.
Peter Whitmer Farm
-open 7 days-
Next Right
I was relieved, I was over joyed! As I cut the wheel and stomped the brakes, the rear wheels slid out right and I punched the gas to the floor heading down the road to that farm. It was a dirt road, and it was a full-sized Explorer, so I know I was raising
a huge cloud of dust behind me. I’m not saying it was as much as a cavalry charge or even as much as in one of those “Mummy” movies… but people? It was close.
The two miles down that road seemed to just evaporate in an instant and soon were in front of… a museum? What the Hell?
“This doesn’t look like a farm, girl.”
“If it has indoor plumbing, it’s Fine,” she said as she opened her door and ran head-long past the kindly gentleman in the suit who had come out to meet us.
I got out on my side and shook his hand, thanking him & asking if she could use the bathroom. He looked at me and said sure, I lot of people do before they start the tour.
I apologized & asked if it would be OK if I did too… and he said that he was fine with that. I smiled, I thanked him, and I ran inside to the door marked ‘Men’ and I did what I had to, cleaning up from what had been a morning of wine tasting.
My GF was waiting for me outside, much calmer (and much emptier) and still lightly buzzed from the wine. The gentleman in the tie was with her waiting, and when I got there he started the tour.
“Welcome to The Peter Whitmer Farm, Birthplace of The Mormon Church….”
And there we were… fresh from desecrating the commodes of one of the Holiest Sites in ALL of the Mormon Church… and smelling of alcohol.
For the next Two Hours, were led on a personal tour to and from each and every historical point of interest on that property. And in the end, I have to admit… it was a sobering experience…
Female here. 1) In a sink in a boy’s dorm. 2) In a barn stall (more than once; it was easier than trekking back to the house). 3) In a falling-down, filthy gas station restroom with a glassless window and no door.
That last one - I was terrified someone would come up and see me, especially since there was no way my bottom was getting within a foot of the disgusting toilet seat. After I peed, I went in to the store to get a snack and discovered that they had a brand new restroom on the other side of the building. :smack:
Last spring, I was dribbling a little bit, and then on Ash Wednesday, while out in public no less, I wet my pants. :eek: I kept thinking about what kind of horrible diseases I might have, until I was sitting there in church that evening, and my girly bits started burning a bit.
Yep, I had a bladder infection.