The Piss Trough is a right of Passage

I understand in our currant climate the idea of a man or woman is pretty fluid so try to stay with me when I say there are times in a boy’s life when he takes large steps towards manhood. One of those is his first time standing at a piss trough.

For me it was Fenway Park. The year was 1995. Roger Clemens was pitching against the White Sox. I would have the privilege of watching a Bo Jackson pinch hit at bat against The Rocket. What an experience. One thing I was not prepared for was taking a piss with stinky dongs at ear level.

I can’t say for certain what inning it was when a bathroom break was needed, but I’m going to guess early in the game as my Dad was not one to be shy about downing a couple of wobbly pops at the game. I do remember walking the concourse of Fenway thinking it was the greatest day of my life. We made our way through the depths of Baseball’s cathedral to the closest Men’s room and walked right in. That was it. No pep talk. No Father - Son bonding moment where he explains you are about to see and hear some things you will never be able to un-see. Nothing. Just strolled in. He eye’d an opening, I followed in tow, whipped out my lil peep and started wizzing.

It was like nature when the baby calves just instinctually know that this cow is your mother and her teats are your resource for nourishment. But, instead of nourishment from a mother’s teat I was fed a waft of dank ass and stale piss. With that tinge of vomit that never really ever disappears; and ketchup. I distinctly remember ketchup. That may be a cross sensory memory, because my cousin fucking loved ketchup and he was draining packets onto his hotdog as if the dog was the condiment. I’ll never forget the amount of ketchup applied that day.

The point here is I’m still breathing.

In one fell swoop I was witness to the essence of man. The piss trough at a ball park is the one true arena where all judgment and lack of self worth is thrown to the wind. It’s just the game, relief, and where’s my next beer coming from. Fucking Primal. Experiencing the heathen behavior as a 9 year old boy is a foundational pillar to which all of society should endure. It’s like an ancient Nordic rite of passage. Although, I think even Ragnor Lodbrok would have had something to say about the smell.

For more scientific insight give a listen to the doctors on the “That’s Debatable” Podcast

P.S. After reading Dr. Big’s blog, Bathroom Etiquette, on the fear of peeing next to some one using a urinal it all starts to make sense why is such an unstable man child.