New York Narrative

Everyone has one of these stories. You have to pee. You don?t know where to go. You’re in a foreign city or country even and you can’t figure out where to take that massive leak. This happened to me one day in a Greenwiche Village, New York.

My girlfriend and I made the trip to New York a priority that year. She wanted to visit NYU, because her old roommate was studying there and I wanted to see what the city was like. I always dreamed of moving there, from the hobbit hole I called home in Alabama.

That day we walked everywhere, looking at dresses, shoes, pants, stereos, fancy restaurants, street performers, bums, businessmen, all sorts really. When I had the natural urge to take a leak, we couldn’t find a public restroom. It seemed like we were looking forever. I knew some of the small storefront properties probably had one, but for some reason we didn’t have any money on us. I thought she had my wallet when we left the hotel room and she thought I had picked it up. She had two dollars in change from a cab fare the night before. The reason I say this most of the stores required you to purchase something in order to use the restroom.

Finally it became unbearable and we went into a vinyl record shop and I petitioned the front kid to let me use the bathroom, which he first began saying they didn’t have but after I started to unzip you get the picture. I basically threatened to pee on his floor if he didn’t let me use his restroom. I know it was childish, but I felt like being brazen at the moment, and, well, I really had to go. We’ve all been there, I know.