An artist’s rendition of dumping a jug of piss on your head.
I went surfing today, just like I normally do. It was a good surf; a little blown out, but still fun. A light crowd and the occasional little runner that the wind didn’t mess up too bad. Then, I got out and poured my own piss all over my head. I even gargled a bit by accident. It was surprisingly vinegary.
I, like many, like to dump water all over myself after I surf. My neighbor tells me that salt water makes you go bald, but I don’t believe him. Kelly might. I have a kitty litter container–one of those big white plastic ones–that I keep in the box of my truck. Before I surf, I fill it with water, then set it somewhere sunny when I park. Generally, it’s lukewarm by the time I get out, and it feels great. Dump it on your head, let it wash the salt out of your eyes and off your skin, get a bit in your mouth just to get the brine out. Then you can go about your day without smelling of seaweed and neoprene.
I went home to Canada last week. Surfed the morning of my flight, then dumped about half the water in the kitty litter jug on my head, got changed, and headed to the airport. On the way, I drank a lot of water because I was still slightly hungover from a reasonably heavy gin soaking the previous evening. Then, of course, I got stuck in traffic. At first, I just had to pee a little bit. I could make it to the airport, no problem. I’m an adult, after all, and I can hold my pee. After about 45 minutes, however, I was practicing deep breathing, bouncing on my seat like a piss-filled balloon, and doing equations in my head like a teenager bent on lasting just a little bit longer in the sack. Fifteen more minutes went by, and I realized there was no way I was making it to the airport. Google Maps told me I had another 37 minutes with traffic. There were only two real options: piss in my shorts and spend the next 7 hours in transit like a baby with a wet diaper, or pull over and piss on the side of the 405 in full view of hundreds of cell phone wielding traffic jammers. I chose the latter.
Since traffic was basically at a standstill, I popped my hood and pretended that I was looking at the motor. I even pulled the air filter out just to add to the illusion. But while I was pretending to be deep in thought, I took my plastic kitty litter jug out, set it in the front passenger side wheel well, and filled it with piss. It was fantastic, like a swollen river breaking its banks. A torrent of water gushing over the top of a dam. I drove my Chevy (Dodge) to the levee and pissed until the levee was dry. Someone even gave me a questioning thumbs up as they crawled by. Smiling a big smile, I held the air filter up with one hand (the other was busy with urine direction) like I had found the problem. Then, with an empty bladder and a gut full of relief, I screwed the top onto the piss-filled jug, tied it back into the truck, and told myself not to forget that it was full of piss. Afterward, I got on my plane and left for a week.
This morning, I forgot that my jug was full of piss. I went surfing today, just like I normally do. It was a good surf; a little blown out, but still fun. Before I left, I hefted my water jug and was pleasantly surprised that to find that I hadn’t used it all the last time. Then, I poured my own piss all over my head. After a week in the sun in an airport storage parking lot, my jug of piss was surprisingly vinegary. I even gargled a bit of it.
