Lewinsky's Evil Twin

Trying to meet Callie after a night of drinking was a terrible idea.

So was not going to the bathroom before I left the bar.

I waited for an eternity for the train and treated the only other person in the station to a pee pee dance.

I got off the train, but still had several blocks to walk to Foggy Bottom.

It was dark, late and dangerous.  But I couldn’t think about that, because I still had to pee.

It hurt so badly I had to stop on the sidewalk and couch down for a minute.  Within seconds a small stream was going down my leg.  Once the floodgates opened, it turned into a full-on tsunami.

I pissed myself.

It felt so good to break the seal, I wasn’t immediately mortified.  In fact, once my brain could focus on something other than my Kegels, I realized the dangerous situation I was in.

Somewhere in that quagmire of thought, I decided this could serve as an effective rape preventer.  No one wants to attack someone wet with their own pee.

With every step, my heels burped a fart and dribbled piss out the sides.  Forget the “uncomfortable” feeling in sweaty sneakers.  This may have hurt my feet more than holding my pee in.

Even after I stopped and dumped them out, the wet leather interior rubbed my feet raw.

I tried jogging to the quickest bathroom.

Eventually, I made it to the first lit building with a public bathroom, which ironically was the Winston House: the same apartment building I shared with Callie over the summer.  I walked by the doorman as normally as I could and then raced to the lobby restroom.

I cleaned myself off and ran my black pumps under the faucet.  Anyone with a modicum of sense would ask the doorman to hail a cab and go home. Instead, I dried my shoes with paper towels and walked the rest of the way to the bar.

I found Callie in the crowd at “Froggy Bottom” and paid for a drink.  The bartender rang a bell behind the bar in celebration of the tip I gave him.

Even the sound of a real, not metaphoric, bell couldn’t ring some sense into me.

I stayed out and met Dad for brunch the next morning, only telling him that I met up with Callie.  “You went out after!?  I don’t believe it.”

“Yeah Dad, I don’t either.”