Spreading bad vibes, one inconsiderate act at a timeSo, I am drying my hair in my 'salle de bain', I look out my window and see a stylishly dressed 25-year-old pissing outside. Recently, the technique of suggesting an alternative location to piss has been quite effective in getting them to go elsewhere. The drunks, surprisingly, are polite and apologetic for the most part. Dealing with stylishly dressed 25-year-olds is an entirely different matter. I called out of my little window: "There is a washroom at the cafe around the corner!" He looked around and located me, zipped and approached my window asking, "What?!" I repeated myself and he responded in the way only someone who recently emerged from adolescence could, "Well I wasn't AT the cafe, was I!?"
Well, he had me there. He certainly wasn't. He no longer had to pee either, so I acknowledged that there isn't much else I could do. He kept standing there, though, so I felt inclined to say something.
"It's illegal," I said.
"So call the police," he answered. Then he hurried from the park.
The problem with reporting public pissers is that they leave when they get the job done. Well, except for the drunks. But they are already "gone" in their own special way.
After this little interaction, I started brainstorming again. I reminded myself of my plan to take photos of these pissers. I reminded myself of my plan to arm myself with a "super soaker" filled with vinegar. I reminded myself of a poster campaign that could plant a seed a paranoia in the minds The Urinators. It would suggest that a violent man often hides in those same bushes and had been known to attack unsuspecting Urinators when the have their pants down. Or, perhaps I could just spread some disgusting concoction all over the grass, something not even Urinators would walk on. Then I reminded myself that this is a losing battle. No matter how hard I try to dissuade these men, they'll always be full of piss.
The feeling that was left with me was absolute frustration. I was actually shaking. I wanted to follow him and take his picture and find out where he lives, and piss on his doorstep. I did make a mental note of his face. I like to think we'll cross paths again. When we do, I am hoping he'll make a pass at me, at which point I will mention that I have already seen him with his pants down, and I wasn't very impressed.