Months ago, a good friend and co-worker of mine forwarded me a hilarious Craigslist rant about a guy's urine stream. The author was yelling at the guy he peed next to earlier about how the weak stream the author had was due to the fact he was just topping off before a meeting and how he can normally blast boats around with his awesome urine stream.
He didn't want this guy to think his one-time weak stream was indicative of a small penis.
It was brilliant, well written, and has stuck with me ever sense. It's now impossible for me to pee next to someone without mentally analyzing the volume and velocity of their pee stream.
Fast forward to now. I was at the Honolulu airport on New Year's Eve. I went to the restroom before my flight boarded to "top off." My urinal was seperated from the rest by a tiled concrete partition. This allowed me the privacy most desire while using the restroom, but it also limited my visibility peripherally.
Seconds after I began peeing I heard this gush, this miniature waterfall of sound coming from the urinal directly to my right. I craned my neck back to see what was making the sound, but the partition blocked me.
The sound continued. I had just spent 6 days on the beach and I immediately drew comparisons between the liquid expulsion next to me and the sound of waves crashing against a rocky coast.
"My god," I thought. "Who is the stallion next to me?" It was as if Poseidon himself had emerged from the beautiful, crisp Hawaiian ocean to pee at the Honolulu airport. Surely, a god can find more elegant urinary accomodations? But no, he chose here.
The splashes continued unabated next to me. I thought back to youthful days at the water park in Houston. The wave pool, the steeply dropping slides. I was confident this man hadn't peed in months. I briefly worried he would pop a blood vessel in his eye, but it wasn't my business to stop him.
I began to wrap up, knowing full well what I needed to do. I couldn't walk out of this restroom without seeing the state of the art, top evolution of my species. I didn't want it to be awkward, nor did I want to see his tools. I just wanted to see the man behind it all.
I zipped up, inhaled a deep breath, took one step back, and looked.
Disappointment filled me when I saw that it wasn't a man, but a broken urinal. I felt like I had been lied to, as if fate was playing a cruel game with my mind. It wasn't fair!
Unless the man broke the urinal with his stream and left before I could see him...
The above story is quite true. SNL has perfectly captured the concept of it in this brilliant fake ad.