Visit to UPS Park

Being old, I need to pee every two hours, and more often if I'm well-hydrated. Always I drain the pipe before leaving home, but riding the bus is a jiggly experience, and makes any need to pee more urgent.

Please note, there are no public restrooms at any bus stop or Metro Transit station. There are at least ten public restrooms in Seattle, according to this article in The Urbanist, but I've never seen one.

Well, after a few gotta-pee gotta-pee two-bus commutes to and from that job I don't have any more, I've invented the pee-anyplace device. It's now always in the bag of essentials (aspirin, earplugs, etc) that I carry everywhere I go.

It's an empty jar with a wide mouth and a tight lid, that's all. Came free with the purchase of 400 vitamin pills, and now that the pills are gone, it holds the contents of my bladder as needed.

I tested it at home, and the jar is watertight, which seemed important. Most of my pants are sweatpants, made of stretchy material, so despite being a fairly large jar, it fits inside my pants. In use, it rests steadily on my britches' ass-seam, which means I only need to reach down long enough to insert myself into the mouth of the jar. After that, I can take both hands out and wave at passers-by or whatever.

First time I used it on the sidewalk, though, an unexpected problem: a lifetime of modesty isn't easily forgotten. I can not simply put the jar in my pants and pee into it, as people walk past on the sidewalk. That's too weird, so each of the three times I've used the jar, I've first needed to walk around for a bit, to find a somewhat secluded spot.

The first time, it was thanks to United Parcel Service (UPS). The company was founded here in Seattle, and moved far away long ago, but they left behind a small, private park, marking the location of their first office. UPS Park (a/k/a Waterfall Garden Park) is a mere block from my downtown bus stop.

Of course, the park and the waterfall are on the other side of a thick metal fence, keeping the public out of the park. My pee-anyplace jar made its debut with me standing there, holding on to the fence and looking into the park, like a tourist might, while peeing into the jar.

I'd figured on carrying the hot sloshing liquid with me, in the jar, in my bag, until finding a men's room, but that suddenly seemed ridiculous, so I poured it out there, through the fence.

The jar is a very obvious solution, of course, and I'm not nominating myself for a prize or anything. But If you're an old man who wears baggy pants, I recommend carrying a pee-anyplace jar, especially if you ride public transit. It makes it lots, lots easier to get around the city on the bus.



  1. Oh, dude, you took writers' medicine or something this morning. This piece on pissing is well-constructed, well-written, clever and fun, as well as being informative. It's like lightning struck your creative self or your penis. I'm assuming they're two different things. It was a joy to read.

    I'm a heart patient, and I take a daily diuretic. I actually have to plan my day because for three to four hours after taking the "water pill" (it ain't water coming out) I have to be within easy reach of a place to piss. I do still drive, and Tacoma ain't Seattle. My 24-year-old car putts around without a lot of traffic around it, and I can usually find a place to head in and whip it out, but I much prefer walls to car windows.

    Sounds like your jar solution works well for you. And, for some reason I can't divine, makes your writing even better.


    1. Thanks, Uncle John. Been in a slump lately, maybe I'll snap out of it.

      Peeing more to help your heart? The connection isn't immediately obvious, but is Instead of prying into your business with a stupid question, I googled: "What the heck do diuretics have to do with the heart"

      Answer from Dr Google: "The more you pee, the more excess salt and water you flush out of your body. Without the extra fluid, it's easier for your heart to pump."

      So I hope you pee lots, man.

    2. Like a Russian racehorse with tactical nuclear weapons.


    3. You have just been assigned by the CIA to Moscow, where you will be invited to a big celebration for Vladimir Putin, whereby upon shaking hands with him you'll suddenly whip it out and drown him with your copious fluid.

    4. I've got enough for politicians closer to home, too. Lots more where that came from...

    5. You seem to be of the female gender (not you Doug) and I'm a little old-fashioned, so I say this with respect and restraint: I'm afraid my fire hose which once could have sent comrade Putin to swimming and sputtering is down to a trickle. The best I could do would be to dribble on his shoes and give him a good ear twist when he looks down.


    6. Oh, man, the trickle. I frickin' hate the trickle. I have better things to do than stand there and trickle, often with such little urine pressure that it dribbles onto the floor in front of the toilet.

      I have been dribbling for decades and still, every time I pee, I remember when it came out like it wanted to get out, instead of loitering all afternoon. It was twenty seconds, max. Now it's two minutes.

      Maybe I want a catheter for Christmas.

    7. I've not clocked it, but those are real close to my times.


    8. I have clocked it. Kind of a numbers geek I am.


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