Fun With Public Urination Part I: The Nassau Avenue Stop of the G
Have you ever found yourself having a day when you find yourself muttering “I’m not seeing this. Please tell me I am not seeing this!” REPEATEDLY? Well, today was one such day for Miss Heather.
Before I continue I am going to be brutally forthright and state that I do not harbor a very high opinion of the human race. Although I have rarely met an individual who is completely unlikeable, there’s something that happens when otherwise nice and reasonable persons coalesce into a group. In a nutshell, they turn into fucking animals.
I have long accepted the fact that most people (myself included) don’t have the stuff to be a Stephen Hawking, Eleanor Roosevelt or Mahatma Gandhi. That special something, whatever it is, is simply beyond the grasp of the rest us. So be it.
However, this doesn’t mean one should do a complete 180 and (for example) hold your toddler son’s dingus as he pisses on platform of the Smith and 9th Street bound G train at Nassau Avenue. I saw just this today. Or more accurately, I heard it.
It was about 12:30 in the afternoon and I had a long day ahead of me. As I waited for the G train to arrive I was lost in thought regarding the day’s busy itinerary. I was abruptly jarred out of my private wonderland by the sound of running water.
I look to my right. Nothing. Then I looked to my left and saw a woman kneeling over her two year old son less than five feet away from me. Liquid was hitting the pavement and languidly drizzling onto the tracks. It was piss. After another good hard stare I deduced that she was holding his “wee wee” for him as he urinated onto the platform. Lovely.
Revolted and yet titillated, I could not draw my attention away from this spectacle. Like a deer in headlights, I was mesmerized. The sight of this child passing what had to be at least a liter of water had rendered me helpless.
After what seemed like an eternity, the little boy’s bladder was voided and mommy zipped up his pants. “I have to document this” I thought to myself. So I whipped out my camera and enthusiastically shot some close-ups of this newly christened piece of platform.
Much to the horror of the mother; she grabbed her child and booked it to the other end of the platform. The entire time she glared back at me as if to say “Get away from me, you SICK FUCK!”
Now I understand that this is New York City and this kind of thing happens on a daily or hourly basis. If I was unwilling to live with this operational hazard I would not be here. But— and this is a big BUT— if you help your two year old take a piss on a subway platform in front of 20-30 people you shouldn’t be the least bit surprised if someone wants to photograph it. As I said before: this is New York City, after all.
If you don’t want photos of your kid’s piss splashed all over the Internets, take him to a bathroom where he can tinkle in private.
Simple as that.