Actually, I’d have to say outdoor peeing was a lot more manageable in the big city than in a teensy rural town like I’m in now. Back in Seattle I could use a few discretionary places where a modicum of privacy was (more or less) guaranteed; and I had decent luck chancing it in some random spots. No cops or prudish types around….but I did, almost, soon after my discharge from a two-week hospital stay. They’d pumped so much water into me—dehydration was one of my problems—and while waiting at a bus stop I had the sudden and uncontrollable need to go, relieving myself behind some thick shrubbery and a sign…..when a cop car came up the same intersection, just twenty yards to the right of me—perfectly parallel! I felt so lucky nothing came of it after I quickly turned.
But moving back to a really small rural town, the luck isn’t so good. A couple months after relocating to northeast Colorado, I spent copious amounts of time in the town’s only library…..being on the ‘net was the only way of keeping up with anything resembling culture or with my various social contacts thereon. By this time my type-II diabetes was running rampant, and I was pissing like mad. Library restrooms being fixed—and in fact, the whole men’s restroom being rebuilt—I made a couple of emergency dashes out the library and to the nearest bush in back….I ran toward the west part of the building, since it was the one area I’d be the least visible. But it being December and no leaves to be found, zilch, nada. Unable to hold it in any longer, I dashed back to the front not having any more logic (much less endurance), and relieved myself in front of the library sign. Now, while what I’ve had for display isn’t too much to see, the average female from 25 yards away can still see a bare glans emitting water. The second time it happened, one of the front-desk ladies called the cops. I accompanied the fuzz out to the lobby, and was that far off from getting the handcuffs slapped on me, when I hastily explained to them my physical condition. They relented but gave me a very stern lecture on the crime of peeing in public and exposing myself, pointing once to a little girl exiting the building and saying she could have seen me. Then they went on their way. It was another three months before I did anything about my condition and was prescribed the proper meds.
I’ve still got mixed feelings about small-town life. No same-sex couples conversing in the local diner, and everyone seems bedrock Christian in their views. Being in close vicinity to everyone else, it’s impossible to know what rumors they spread about your own beliefs and lifestyle.
I soon found a job as organist for the Presbyterian church, just a walk across the street from the library. I immediately got keys to the place, and it’s now my emergency bathroom.