This topic falls just inside of the "Commuting Suicide" umbrella. It involves travel in public transportation, and it made me want to kill myself. Therefore, we're going to let it run.Also, it involves bodily fluids. Lots of bodily fluids.
As the map above indicates, I was traveling from the Lower East Side to my apartment on the Upper West Side. According to the map, this should take 15 mins. Said journey occurred at around 2:00am on a Saturday night, so we could safely shave off 5 minutes from that total due to lack of traffic. As is common for me on a Saturday night, I was drunk. After suffering two substantial losses to Lindsey at the hands of SkeeBall machines, I thought it'd be best to soak my sorrows in a pint of Guinness. Several pints of Guinness. I had so many that I may or may not have referred to one of Lindsey's friends as "cunty". I said this to her face. And I meant it. Lindsey, being the smart and logical girlfriend that she is, thought it would be best if we left the bar and went home so as to spare me another ass-beating at the hands of a girl which would end with me looking for my teeth on a dirty bar floor.
A cab was quickly hailed, and if you're familiar with the Lower East Side on a Saturday night, you know that is quite a feat. As the former passengers were exciting, one of them said, "Careful, he's from Haiti and speaks French." To which I responded, and in retrospect am quite proud of myself being as intoxicated as I was, "Oui? Je parle Francais. C'est bon."
We got in the cab, told him our final address, and were underway. I don't remember much of the cab ride, mostly because it was spent trying to figure out why exactly Lindsey was so mad at me and determining the full meaning of "sometimes you need to know when to shut the hell up." But I quite clearly remember the ride when we were two blocks from home.
Stopped at a light, I heard what sounded like someone pouring a small glass of water into another, bigger glass of water coming from the front seat. As if the two were connected, I squinted my eyes in order to hear better. The stream of water continued, and grew more hurried as the distinctive smell of ammonia cascaded around the car. I grabbed Lindsey's leg in order to get her attention. Are you hearing what I'm hearing? She was still miffed at my lack of eloquence to acknowledge the significant unfolding in the front seat.
The cabbie was urinating into a bottle while we sat in the back.
Lindsey failed to realize this. (She was a bit drunk too.) I gagged a bit on the smell. She looked at me and gave me the "what?!" look and continued to stare out the window. Arriving outside our apartment, we paid, (she insisted on a tip) and watched him drive off.
"Holy shit, that cabbie just took a leak in front of us!" I exclaimed, amazed but sort of proud that I'd have another story to write for YesButNoButYes on Monday.
"Wait, what? What happened?" Lindsey responded.
"The cabbie just pissed into a bottle while we were in the car! You didn't hear it? You didn't SMELL it?"
"No way."
"Yes way! That was so fucked up!"
"Why would a cabbie piss himself a few blocks away from the destination? Couldn't he have waited the two minutes?"
"I don't know. It's sort of a long drive uptown. Maybe he couldn't hold it anymore. From the sound of it, he really had to go."
And so, as of Saturday night, I now have a pissing cabbie story. Having called New York City home for the past seven years, I have amazing taxi stories. From the horrible smells, to the lost cell phones, I've experienced it all. And now I have the urinating taxi driver to add to the list.
I should have taken down his taxi number. I should have asked him, in French, what he was doing. Who knows, maybe that sort of thing is acceptable in Haiti.
Stumble This
Reddit!
It's 2 am you:
[ ] Call the leaky taxi driver to drive you home.
Haha... that's weird...
But who am I to judge. Once I went to the theatre to watch a reprise of a movie I had enjoyed when I was a kid--I can't remember what movie now--and I went in with lots of soda and snacks to make myself at home while watching it. As it was a reprise of an underestimated movie, the theatre was almost empty. The total head count be something between 15 and 25. In the middle of the movie I needed to take a leak so badly, and it was the funniest part of the story, and as I couldn't see anyone around, I decided to use my bottles to have a relief. Almost filled two of them.
When the lights came up, I heard a voice saying: "Will you take your bottles with you?"
That's when I realized that there was a girl two rows behind me. When I turned to look, she was in such a lazy position that I couldn't spot her, but she may have smelled or heard some of my work in there... Shame... I was so embarrassed that I didn't know what to answer her, and in a final attempt of keeping my dignity I replied: "I was going to, but if you're thirsty, it's my pleasure to share 'em with you. Take as many as you want."
And I turned my backs and walked fast to the exit, wishing to god that she hadn't seen my face clearly.
"Cunty"? Is that like an abusive term of endearment?
Cunty: adjective. A person, usually a woman, who does things solely for their own benefit at the expense and detriment of others, no matter the cost to world order or sanity. Often, the actions of this person make perfect sense to them, but lack total sense and reason to other people.
It is important to note that people termed as "cunty" are not full-fledged "cunts" but only display the symptoms of such a condition.
It's a well-known fact that consumption of Guinness heightens one's sense of smell. 'Cunty' is an aromatic term; earthen, woodsy.
I believe it to be Bavarian, slang. Commonly used amongst treehuggers and deep within the backpacking community.
Obviously Echowood has the updated, urban dictionary. I used as reference the Olde-English dictionary handed down from my Grandfather.
Both definitions clearly outline the distain one termed as 'cunty' has for those around him/her.
Keeping it on the smell, I do believe that cunty can refer to a girl who has a serious problem with hygiene and body odour... specially from the cunt area...
okay .. what is with men and peeing in bottles ? .. has anyone ever gotten stuck in the bottle ? ..
we've all pee'd in specimen jars but that has a much wider orafice ..
do men pee in showers too ? ..
fluid overload here ..
Alex.. 'What is it with men peeing in bottles?" I think it's cause it's easier for us to aim to hit them. If women could aim so well, they'd do it too.
When we were little, Mom kept a Ragu jar in the glove compartment.
Just.
In.
Case.
I distinctly recall using it in the parking lot of a Stop & Shop around age 6. It was, of course, a wide mouth jar.
Yeah, peeing in the shower is great. Its all going down the same drain anyway, so I don't see the harm in it. It save precious seconds in the morning peeing it the shower before you go to work. Two jobs have just become one.
Just aim for a plug hole.
The great thing about males is we can just pee anywhere.
Frank the Tank aka Frank Costanza
Now we know where George got his pee-pipe theories!
That's a good New York story bro. I recall Conan O'Brien saying how much he loved NY in the autumn. 'The urine in the alleyways reminds me of cider'.
Where do cabbies go to piss anyway?
For the record, urine is more or less sterile, so actually, in a NY cab, driver piss was probably the least of your worries...
Cunty - nice definish. Citigroup risk management was a cunty team. Would that be correct usage.
I would also like to take a moment to point out that when the ultimate smell of male expression was released, our fearless hero, though in a drunken stupor, recognized and grew inquisitive as to the nature of the smell almost immediately. Lindsey, though not quite as inebriated, did not even notice the smell and, in fact, acted as if she had never been exposed to it before.
That's not good, Echo. You need to mark your territory a little better than that! Perhaps the years of cologning have saturated your body tissue to such an extreme that your natural musky compounds have been altered.
Nasty story. Too bad you didn't hail the Cash Cab. Whats with bitches being so offended by the word 'cunt'? I say, if you don't want to be called a cunt, cunty, cuntish, don't be a cunt. You all know when you are acting like a cunt. Stop it.
E, while you are generally right, if that guy has any infection of the ding-dong, that pee is no longer sterile. I'm not a germaphobe, but I believe that's a public health issue.
I would have totally reported him. Then again, I'm a dick like that.
I don't want anymore cab stories until you make it on Cash Cab.
Honestly, I think I'd kick ass on Cash Cab, with or without the urine.