A few weeks ago on a Sunday I was headed downtown to meet some friends for drinks. The weather was pretty nice so i decided to ride my bicycle — approximately 5 miles which I could easily ride in 30 minutes. After spending a couple of hours at the bar, it was time to start making my way home before it started getting dark. Now, after an desperate accident on the way home from the bar about a year ago, I’ve made a habit of always peeing before I head home, and this afternoon was no exception. I paid my tab, peed, and headed outside to get on the bike.
As I started riding home, my phone rang. It was a family member that I hadn’t spoken to in a long time, so I felt compelled to take the call so I answered the phone. Those of you who are cyclists know it’s not a good idea to ride your bike and talk on the phone at the same time, so I hopped off of my bike and started walking towards home as I was talking. Well, an hour later I was only half way home in what should have been a 30 minute trip, and as I was talking on the phone the urge to pee had been steadily growing. I wrapped up the conversation and hopped back on my bike, and as I did so, I realized that I had to go a lot worse than I thought. It was starting to hurt.
No worries, I thought, I’ll just stop at a store along the way and use the restroom – no big deal. Well, it was Sunday evening, and everything I rode by was close. It was starting to become a big deal. I looked around for some privacy to duck off and relieve my aching bladder, but it was a busy street and there was no privacy to be found. I was determined to not pee myself, after all, I had used the bathroom just over an hour ago and by this point I was maybe 15 minutes from home. Just 15 minutes. Even a teenager can hold it 15 minutes. I had broken the seal though and in the back of my mind I knew that this had the potential to be a close call.
As I approached my neighborhood, my building came in site on the horizon. I was close. My place was just across the bridge and up the street. It was at that point I noticed a line of cars ahead of me. The bridge was a drawbridge and it was up. Nobody was getting across, including me, no matter how badly I needed to pee. At this point about all I could think about was trying to not pee my pants, a possibility I was embarrassed to even consider at the age of 26. I stopped at the bridge and sat back on my bike, waiting for it to go back down.
As the minutes crept by, my anxiety level rose exponentially as the pain in my bladder continued to increase. I was beyond desperate, there was no denying it at that point. I considered peeing off of the bridge, but there were too many cars around to get away with it. I’d just have to wait it out. About 5 minutes later, as I was sitting on the bike, a spasm hit and with it came a spurt of pee. Damn it. I was starting to lose control. I looked down and thankfully couldn’t see a wet spot on my pants; I was wearing dark jeans and black boxer briefs. I could feel the warm piss trickle down my crotch, however, and knew my underwear was wet at that point. Another spasm with another jet of pee, and the pee started to pool under my butt on the seat although the front of my pants were still dry. Perhaps the situation was still salvageable if the stupid bridge would come down.
Crap, another spurt, this one pushing 10 seconds, My underwear saturated, some pee started dripping down my legs and on to the ground. I was having an accident. As I watched the bridge start to come down I was trying to maintain a semblance of control, however, each spasm got longer and longer and by time the cars started moving I was full on pissing my pants. All I could do at that point was crouch down to minimize the evidence, finish peeing, and ride the rest of the way home wondering how I could prevent this in the future.