Andrew JohnstoneCity people have a weird attitude to urine, writes ANDREW JOHNSTONE.
I have no problem with pissing outside. I grew up on a farm where the whole world is your toilet. You are 5km from any kind of civilisation, so you just do as needs require. The only time you might use an actual toilet is when you are at home, and even then its easier to go outside and give the ‘gift that matters’ to the lemon and feijoa tree where it will do some good rather than the rigmarole of toilets and seats and back splash and hand washing.
I remember suggesting to my newly minted 8-year-old stepson that he pee outside. “It’s easier and much more fun.” A well schooled town boy, he was visibly upset by the idea but he got used to it and hasn’t looked back. “Yes, it is convenient,” he announced when he was about 10. The problem was getting him to stop pissing on the one spot, and the excess piss had killed a good few square feet of lawn. “You gotta spread it around boy. It’s potent stuff”.
Different rules apply when you pee outside. Hand washing is not always possible and you have to compromise standards a little. Otherwise, piss is sterile and you can learn to hang your ‘willy’ out and do the job without touching anything. If you really have to wash, dewy grass is a good start.
The toilet is good for storms and impossibly cold nights, but otherwise outside is easiest. Or in bucket. At one time the whole family peed in buckets, and in the morning I would collect it, dilute it down with water and chuck it on the lawn. Visitors would kick off their shoes and walk about the grass marvelling at the velvet softness underfoot. “It was piss that did that,” I could have said, but I never told anyone.
The worst part about pissing is getting up in the night. A bucket close by makes it simple, comfortable and easy. ‘Easy’ unless you knock the bucket over, which is why I switched to the bottle. I learned my lesson about peeing in bottles a few years back when I was stuck in traffic. It was an emergency. I had no choice. I unzipped and let rip. It was one huge error of judgement. I jammed the head of my cock into the head of a bottle and forgot to leave room for air displacement. There was an explosion of urine and I was a bloody mess and the car was a bloody mess. “Fuck you Auckland Traffic!” I screamed helplessly to no one.
Growing up on a dairy farm gets one used to being pissed on, and in the end its only “grass and water” (or in my case chocolate and coffee), which grandpa would remind me when I was still getting used to this fact of cowshed life. After a while you stop thinking about it. Even shit becomes a mundane thing. “Grass and water, grass and water.”
I got caught short up on K-Rd the other week and damn did I not regret using the toilet at the café I left five minutes back. Three km’s till home and the pressure is building. In the end I ducked off the footpath and into a byway running through the University of Auckland and let loose against a tree. Jesus it felt good. I finished and turned around to find a dozen people staring at me out a window, a mix of emotions on display. Some looked vaguely shocked, some offended and others amused. I waved and bowed and mouthed my gratitude for their kind attention. If you are going to do it in the daylight and in public, do it fast and without hesitation and if you get caught, be gracious about it. It’ll confuse them while you make your getaway.
Piss is a miracle thing. Lawns, trees and shrubs (including fruit trees) will benefit from its judicious application. It can be added to compost to invigorate proceedings (the nitrogen in urine is mana from heaven to the bacteria working at breaking down the waste) and used to fertilise commercial food crops. You can do a lot of positive things with urine.
We should not be afraid of piss but we are and for good reason. Historically we discovered that having a whole lot of people pissing on everything in built-up areas is no good for anyone (it stinks for a start) so we developed some pretty firm strictures about the ‘where and when and how’ of pissing in public places. But in our haste to flush it away safely we have forgotten about all the useful things we can do with it.
When you gotta go you gotta go. Even on the verge of a busy road in the middle of the day. People are going to toot and point. Ignore them. A full bladder can be distracting to a driver. Better to be safe than sorry.
I know this woman who can lift her skirt and point her stream as efficiently as any man. She’s a farm girl who does it with practiced amusement and God help anyone who takes offence: “It’s only bloody piss. Get over it”. Ah, Kiwi women. Gotta love them.
