In the middle of my kitchen floor, aiming into an empty Pace salsa jar. I live in a house with four girls. We have one bathroom. I woke up one morning last month having to pee like a racehorse. I tried the bathroom — locked. Tried the backyard — thunderstorm. Even tried the kitchen sink — dirty dishes. Out of options and still in a sleep haze, I grabbed an empty jar out of the recycling bin and squatted right there. I aimed like a champ, dumped the evidence outside, washed my hands (and the jar), and went back to sleep.
Standing over the toilet bowl at 4 a.m. on a bus in Egypt. When you spend ten hours on a bus, you expect you’re going to pee. What you don’t expect is that everyone is going to pee. And the plumbing on this bus is not equipped for all 50 people to piss in one toilet. So when I deliriously made my way to the bathroom on this bus, imagine my surprise when I found an inch-and-a-half of other people’s urine sloshing around the floor. I couldn’t hold it for another six hours and I wasn’t about to go in my pants, so I vaulted over the piss river onto the toilet seat and squatted over the bowl. There was an additional one-handed tampon change involved in this endeavor, as my other hand was occupied holding the door shut while we went over some bumps.
Behind someone’s house in broad daylight, while hot guys on the street passed by and talked to me. Football game tailgating. Enough said.
In a Tanzanian cornfield, between bouts of puking. I had the amazing opportunity to work with an NGO in Tanzania this summer. As expected, my body had some reactions to the change in bacteria in the food and water. While we were visiting a rural area, this reaction escalated to constant, violent vomiting. Eventually tired of pissing/ shitting and puking in the same hole in the ground, I just retreated to a nearby cornfield and released all of my bodily fluids in peace.
On Macchu Picchu. Well, not ON it. But near it. The whole time I felt like Pachamama herself was going to smite me, but after five days of trekking and no bathroom in the foreseeable future, the backside of an ancient temple was the best I could do.
While talking to sheep. I like sheep. I’m really good at making baaing noises. If I’m going to urinate in their pasture, I would at least like to make a friendly impression.
In an Ozarka bottle in the trunk of my friend’s SUV. Concert traffic sucks, bro. The key to this one was wearing a dress for optimal aiming. Those bottles have very tiny openings.
Squatting in a sewer ditch in rural Peru while an entire family and their cattle meandered by. On the upside, I knew the family, so I didn’t make a total idiot of myself. On the downside, I’m pretty sure that was the whitest ass those kids have ever seen.