Sometimes, the stars align and I’m in the right place at the right time. This morning, I was driving through San Francisco, my biggest problem being a slight accessories mis-selection, when I pulled up to a red light at the intersection of Van Ness and Sacramento. Gazing out my window (while singing Boston’s hit, “More Than A Feeling”) I spotted a middle aged, non-homeless man with a ponytail standing nervously on the corner. He was clutching his crotch like a child who simply couldn’t hold it any longer. I couldn’t determine if he was drunk, insane or just suffering from a bad urinary tract infection, but I was instantly fascinated.
Right there on the corner, he began to face the wall, as if he planned to pee against it. I find this offensive by drunk frat boys at 3am, not to mention in broad morning daylight, and was about to scream “That is fucking gross!” across the street at him. But the abundance of workers carrying Starbucks and little old ladies walking around was enough of a barrier to prohibit ponytail from whipping it out.
Still standing on the corner of Van Ness and Sacramento, he grabbed himself as if he was physically holding the pee in.
I was mesmerized.
The light was still red, as if waiting with me for the grand finale. Ponytail eyed a car parked a few yards away, pulled out some keys, let go of his pants and began to briskly walk towards what I can only assume is his vehicle.
“This is it.” I thought. “I know that look.”
Lo and behold, the khaki pants soon revealed what I had already anticipated. Ponytail peed his pants.
He made it to the driver’s side door and faced it, but the damage was beyond done. I watched a literal waterfall of pee explode from within him, soaking not only the entirety of his pants, but the asphalt beneath him.
The light turned green as I drove away in stunned silence.
While at first finding this hilarious, calling Michael at work to relay the entire melodrama to him, I slowly realized Ponytail was fucked. There was no way he could walk into a store and buy new pants ay 8:30am, completely covered in urine. Who knows how far away his house was, or if he, like me, always carried backup clothes in his trunk.
I called Alex, leaving today for Vegas on his way home. Again, I relayed my surprising experience. “Nice going, sis.”
“Well, what the hell was I supposed to do? Bring him home and give him some of Mike’s pants?”
“No. But this was your big chance to do something.”
“Don’t you read your own blog? You missed your chance to Pay It Forward…”