I Peed All Over Myself at a Super Bowl Party

Ok, it’s time to tell those of you who don’t already know. It’s been a few weeks, no one has called and asked me to come back and re-clean the bathroom, the jeans have been washed and washed again.

I peed all over myself at a Super Bowl party.

Earlier in the day, I thought it’d be fun to scroll through the NFL props on the website of my local offshore sportsbook. One that caught my eye was simple but enticing: Which player will be the fastest? It was to be graded using NextGen stats, which I think is the NFL’s answer to MLB’s Statcast. I put a responsibly small amount of money on the favorite, Isiah Pacheco, thinking that how fast people are is fairly straightforward and assuming Andy Reid would get Pacheco the ball with upfield space at least once during the game.

Late in the second quarter, people ran out of things to talk about, and with no Kansas Citians or Philadelphians at the party, it devolved into many of us asking the guy from Canada what Canada’s like (pretty similar to America, from the sounds of it, which is great news—our cultural campaign continues to work well there and locals will be sympathetic should we ever need to invade). I decided to go to the bathroom and check my phone.

I have no problem admitting the following. I check my phone often while peeing. As someone who spends most of his working hours on a screen, it’s an unnecessary habit that feels necessary. That’s how addictions work. So, I’m peeing, and I’m finding the NextGen live leaderboard for speed, and everything feels and sounds normal. Until it doesn’t. Until I notice I’ve made a little mess on the front of the toilet.

Warning: Gets a little bit graphic here.

Evidently I’d been half-hitting my belt, which was hanging in a terrible place. It sounded normal, it felt normal, but my belt was deflecting half my urine. To where was it deflecting it? Mostly the ground, I hoped.

I hoped wrong.

It was all over my leg.

This was, of course, a disaster, a disaster made worse by the fact that I’m not super close with the guy whose house it was and even if we were close, he’s way bigger than me, so there’s no way he’d have pants that would fit me well. Also, because nobody was talking and the game wasn’t that loud, the only way to get help would be to announce that I had pissed all over myself while checking on a prop bet (a prop bet I eventually lost) to the entire room.

So, I sucked it up. I cleaned up the mess I’d made in the bathroom, I patted down my jeans as best I could (can’t really scrub dry with toilet paper, that’ll make it very visible because of the disintegration), and I went and stood behind the couch. Thankfully, the wet spot was more on the inside of my leg than the outside, and thankfully, the jeans were dark. Nobody said anything, and nobody has said anything, and I tweeted about it and nobody who was there has responded saying, “Yeah man, that was weird of you.” All of which is to say: I think I’m in the clear.

But boy, was it embarrassing.

And boy, was it uncomfortable.

That’s the thing they don’t talk about when people pee their pants. The discomfort! I suppose that’s the real reason we all agree to use bathrooms. Even the most secure person in the world doesn’t want to stand there in wet pants. I was the most relieved to get home that night. Slept really well after showering and changing into my clean PJ’s.