You Wanted A Urinal Story- You Got It!

The Time I Got Peed On At A Urinal

At one point in my life, I thought this was the wettest I would ever get from a waterfall.

OK, let’s be honest, nobody has ever asked for a urinal story. That’s just insane. The title is mostly to warn people what’s coming so they don’t click the link. But YOU clicked, you giant weirdo, so let’s do this.

I’ve been knocked out with the flu for the last several days, so I’ve been slacking off on pretty much everything but binge watching American Vandal (which is truly, truly hilarious) and hurling my guts into the toilet over and over again. Which made me think of something that happened, suspiciously enough, just before I came down with the flu…

First, it’s just coming into summer here. That’s important to remember later on.

Most of my female readers have no idea how lucky they are. In public washrooms, they just kind of hover a few inches above the seat and blast a geyser all over the toilet, the floor, and their own feet. You all know it’s true, so don’t even try to deny it.

But at least they do it in the privacy of their own stall.

Back in Canada, most urinals in the men’s room have at least some sort of partition between them, thus preventing accidental sword crossing or spontaneous blow jobs. I guess.

But there was no divider in the particular restroom I visited last week. Whatever. I had to pee so badly it hurt, and I was honestly just pleasantly surprised it wasn’t mostly blood when it came out.

As I was innocently revelling in the ecstasy of sweet release, a gentleman entered and broke the cardinal rule of urinal etiquette- even though there were empty receptacles 2 urinals down, he came and stood right beside me.

No matter. I was almost done.

And then, out of nowhere, this guy hauls out his thunderwhistle and unleashes the type of fury our ancestors immortalised in legends.

The stream of steaming golden savagery would have made Hurricane Irma blush in impotent embarrassment. It blasted against the back of the porcelain wall, which was no match for the mighty storm attacking it.

Remember when I said it was summer? I was wearing shorts and flip flops.

This backsplash was so ferocious it leapt from the back of his urinal right onto my legs and feet.

To make a long story short, I got pissed on. By the dude whizzing in the urinal next to me.

I’m still not sure whether to be disgusted or impressed.

About the Author

I’ve been many things. A university English instructor, a picker upper of dead bodies, a musician, and a sales guy. My work brought me and my family from Vancouver, Canada to Pretoria, South Africa in September 2016, and I’m still wondering how that happened.

I started this blog mostly because my friends back in Canada kept asking me how things were in South Africa, and posting about my experiences seemed more efficient than repeating myself hundreds of times.

Maple and Marula is a way for me to make sense of my new surroundings as an expat who has no idea what I’m doing.

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6 Comments

  1. May be a good idea to carry a small packet of those disinfectant wet wipes, or keep some in your car for just such occasions! In fact, perhaps they should have a dispenser handy in the bathrooms, just as they do in supermarkets to wipe the trolley handles with 🙂

  2. Hahaha, that post was just crying to be written the minute you felt the first sprinkle. I can see your mind already fast-forwarding to possible word choices. Of which you came up with many – well done! (and sorry it had to happen to you. I still say you guys got the better deal. Like when you’re on a road trip through Namibia and just stand there by the side of the road and pee whenever you feel like it.. Squatting is just not very graceful.)

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