That time I accidentally peed in a closet and went to Italy

I barely noticed the roaches, but I did notice the heat. A lot of houses in Europe don’t have air conditioning, which is great for the environment but it makes trying to sleep in those spaces a trial of its own. I’m stripped down to my underwear and sweating on a pull out couch. The sort where you can already tell that your back is going to hurt in the morning. In order to get to the bathroom you have to open their bedroom door, traipse through, and then sit for a spell. It has a bidet. Back then, I usually slept well, arising sometimes as late as nine or ten after a long night’s sleep. Of course, that night by 2:30 I had the floodwaters of the Nile moving through my urethra. I tried to sit for a spell as if waiting would make the urine pass. A slender breeze cools the sweat on my skin. In the distance I hear cars rushing by on the street, the cities version of the ocean. It was raining, or it sounded like it had been raining, or the cars had poor mufflers.

          Eventually, my bladder got the best of me, and I walked through their pitch black room, banging my shin on their bed before peeing vigorously and staring confusedly at the bidet. On the way out, I bump their bed again, to remind them that Americans don’t do anything quietly. For a while, I sit in bed, sweating, watching my partner sleep peacefully, as the reeds of an Italian breeze float through the window, billowing the curtains on the way. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep.

          By 4:30 AM I’m awake again. The need that I have to pee is somewhere between urgent, and I’m probably going to wet the bed for the first time as an adult. 

Years earlier, I’d accidentally wandered into a closet at my brother’s house in Virginia and vigorously peed on a water meter in the front closet, only realizing half way through, as bits of spray rebounded into the air that I was probably not in the bathroom. After that, I’d gone back to lie down in my sleeping bag, only to be awoken by my sister’s voice, “Andrew?”

“Yes,” I answered her.

“Did you just pee in the front closet?”

After a pause, “Yes.”

And then the two of us broke into a giggling fit, despite the fact that we were both far too old to be laughing at pee jokes before cleaning it up with a role of paper towels and never telling my brother or his wife. It’s just one of the many reasons that I love my sister so much.

          In retrospect, I suppose I should have just peed in their front closet. As it was, I banged my way through their bedroom and peed again, banging my shin on the bed again, and partially rearranging the mattress. I’m certain they were awake for the whole thing and probably wondering if I needed some cranberry juice for my bladder infection.