Just when you thought you knew everything about OhiolezgirlinNYC aka Erika. I’m gonna throw you another little tid bit of TMI. Yup, that’s right. Just home from work at 342AM. Not entirely work’s fault. I left work at a reasonable hour but stopped for beers with some colleagues.
There’s no point in pussy-footing around the issue, let’s get to the meat. The piece of TMI you didn’t need to know but I’m going to tell you anyway-in the premise of never holding back on this, my sacred internet space, to say and do whatever the fuck it is I want to fucking do so help me god.
I pee my pants. Yup, I pee my pants and I peed my pants while waiting impossibly long for an A train at Jay Street Borough Hall in Brooklyn. A little back story: Back in 4th grade at St. Angela Hall I peed my pants for the first time in public to sheer horror and utter dismay. I’d asked the teacher at least a half dozen times and when I finally lost control of my bladder in library in front of my entire class she smirked and made some fucked up remark like, “Well if you needed to go that badly you could’ve told me” Yeah, I told you, bitch, fuck off.
From that day on every teacher from grade five to my senior year of high school knew that if Erika Davis needed to go pee, no matter how many times she’d peed earlier that day that you must, in every circumstance, let her go pee. I actually had a principal follow me into the loo and listen for me to pee because she thought I was making the whole thing up. And before you go asking, no I don’t have diabetes, and no I can’t fucking hold it. Never could, never will. When I have to fucking pee, I have to fucking pee now get the fuck out of my way before I pee on you.
Flash Forward to freshman year of college at any house party on any college campus. I was the girl cutting the line to get to the loo. I’d promise who ever was at the front of the line that it’d only take me a minute or less (because my bladder is unusually small) and I’d be in and out in a flash-as promised. If for some reason you didn’t let me cut you in line I would exit said home and pee on the side of the house and be back in the living room dancing and filling up my red Solo Cup while you idiots in line waited.
Flash Forward to Erika in NYC. I pee and have peed every where. I’m actually surprised that my first ticket in my adult life was for talking on the phone while driving (you can’t do that in NYC) and not for public urination. I’ve peed in almost every borough, in almost every neighborhood, on several expensive and foreign cars. I’ve peed near cops, next to friends, shit I’ve peed on the A train going to Utica.
And to peeing my pants. Several times when I’ve waited endlessly for a train (like tonight) and the train just didn’t come fast enough. I’m catapulted back to fourth grade where I don’t realize it’s happening, really but look down to see that I am, in fact, peeing in public without having any control over it.
Tonight it happened while waiting for the A train. I’d waited with a friend in Manhattan for 20 minutes before our train came. I told them at the bar that I’ d have to pee at least two more times before we left to be on the safe side. I only got to pee once.
I told my friend about the time 4 years ago when I left a bachelorette party at 4AM and waited 45 minutes for an A train at West Fourth Street to get to Utica in Brooklyn. I peed in an empty train car by lifting my skirt and pulling down my knickers and no one ever knew. Except I told folks because I tell people when I pee my pants.
I peed my pants walking home to that apartment off of the Utica stop that was 10 blocks away from the train. All of a sudden homeboys on the street hollarin’ at a girl stop hollarin’ when pee is shooting from the crotch.
Tonight was the same. MTA workers in Orange neon vests willing to talk trash, tell me I’m pretty, they like my hair, where am I going so late at night. When I ask you, where’s the loo and you say there is none and I ask where you go and you chuckle and think it’s cute. Until I’m peeing my pants in front of you.
I’ve said too much, haven’t I? Let me just twist the knife in your side for good measure. Here’s a tip from a 30-year-old who’s been peeing her pants because her bladder’s too small for over 2 decades. Do Not pee your pants when you’re wearing Hunter Wellies. When they tell you they’re water proof, they’re not lying. They’re water proof inside and out.