the flood.

Last time I gave you the soapbox gay pride weekend talk. This time I'll give you the what the hell happened on gay pride weekend talk. As expected, I headed into Boston to watch the parade in the rain. It always amazes me how no one in the parade seems to notice they are soaking wet and marching through puddles. But hey, what the hell. After the parade, I headed to the women's block party with a few friends. This is an outdoor event, but you can go into any of the bars in the area to escape the predicted rain. The downside to doing this is that you basically step into a time-warp where there is almost total darkness, thumping techno music, and in your drunk state you're confused, disoriented, and not sure whether it is day or night. I felt like Dracula coming back into the sun after being in a club dancing for 20 minutes. If I had stayed in there 10 minutes longer I probably would have hissed and scowled at the sun upon emerging.

Day drinking is not my friend, and somewhere around 3 o'clock I had had enough and headed home to regroup myself for the evenings activity of more drinking and dancing. Since I had consumed my weight in bagels earlier that morning at brunch, my first (still slightly buzzed) thought upon arriving home was, "Hey, I should go for a run!" So I grabbed my dog and headed out to stumble-run around the neighborhood for 30 minutes.

Bad Decision: Going for a run with alcohol in your system.
Better Bad Decision:  Using this as an excuse to call passing out in the middle of the day a "nap."

C'mon. That run was exhausting.
A couple solid hours of sleep in and back to Boston I went. The women's dance party was being held a Machine, which is a fairly large facility. Being gay pride weekend, this was probably at least one of their biggest nights of the year, if not the biggest. I suck at estimating numbers of people, so let's just say there were approximately shit-hundred people in the club. Everyone is dancing and drinking happily when about an hour into the night a water main breaks. Liquid begins to fill the hallway and floor area near the biggest bathroom in the place. Then an announcement is made.

Attention. Unfortunately one of our water mains has broken and we will have to shut off the two bathrooms on the first floor. Please use the bathroom in the back or the one upstairs.

Now picture a stampede of drunk people who have to pee.
Instantly the bathroom lines are 50 people deep everywhere.
Instantly I have to pee.

It's like when you are trapped in a car in traffic and as soon as you realize it would be impossible for you to access a bathroom for at least half an hour, you also realize you have to pee like a mother fucker. Much like wanting women, unavailability also makes you want bathrooms. So for the rest of the night you had to anticipate when you would need to pee, and go stand in line about 20-30 minutes before you thought that would happen. I am not exaggerating. The shortest line I stood in that night for the bathroom was 20 minutes. The longest was 40. This is all setting the stage for something...

These are actually gay women.

Towards the end of the night I attempted the upstairs bathroom line, found it wasn't too long (this was the 20 minute one) and added myself to the queue. As I moved up in line, I stood innocently chatting with a friend, just passing the time. La de da. When all of a sudden I felt a splash of warmth on my foot. I knew immediately what it was. (Spilled drinks are cold.) I turned to the girl next to me, who had an expression of half relief/half "who me?".

          ME:  Did you just pee on me?
          DEPENDS:  What? No. (Even these 2 words were slurred.)
          ME:  You did. You just peed on me.
          DEPENDS:  Looks the opposite way.
          ME:  You are peeing right now! There is currently pee coming out of you.

I looked down to verify my suspicion and sure enough there was pee streaming out from under her dress, down this chick's legs, and onto the bar floor. It should be noted that we were no where near the flooded area, so she was literally just peeing onto the dry floor of a bar.

I ran through a quick checklist.
Have I been stung by a jellyfish? No.
Do I have a rash or hives? No.
Is there a blemish on my foot? No.
Am I into being peed on? Definitely No.

Yeah, definitely not acceptable that I just got peed on. In my current horrified/intoxicated state I made a little bit of a scene about being peed on in that line. The fact that no one else seemed as horrified as I did only incited me to continue to make eye contact with everyone in that line going "She PEED on me. I just got PEED on." Looking back, that chick was wasted and despite the NOT OKness of it all, I shouldn't have further embarrassed her like I did. I don't know that girl, but I am sure this was a new low for her. And if it wasn't, then I'd like to hear some of her stories. The saddest part of the whole thing? She was only 2 people away from her turn to go. So close. So very very close.

I washed my foot in the sink, went back downstairs, danced the rest of the night away, and tried unsuccessfully to tell my story to all my drunk friends. (None of which understood the true horror of what had happened until the next morning.) Thankfully (silver lining) I was able to secure a snuggle partner for the night, because if you don't deserve to be the little spoon after being peed on by a stranger, I dont' know when you do.

Life Lesson: If you're at the point where you will pee on someone else, it's OK to cut the line.

Gotta love loopholes.
-LSLP, Ash.