My Hasty Pee in NYC

My family wanted to head out to Rockefeller Plaza for the holiday season, now that we were all able to celebrate together again this year. The whole gang was reunited, and we all went for a train ride into NYC. Even my 83-year-old grandma begrudgingly came along for the trip. I made sure to take some loperamide before the trip, given that we were going to eat at Bryant Park, a place that isn't my own house with my own very comfortable bathroom.

IBS, urgency, and a trip to the city

We got to the park, looked around the various shops and boutiques that scattered the place, then found a crape shop that tickled our fancies. I got myself a bacon, egg, and cheese bag boy and scarfed it down, warming myself off its steam. This was something that I would NEVER do without my tummy meds. I was fine to eat whatever and walk around like everything was normal. Only that – as I said – the stuff makes me pee. Like really pee, but we were on a schedule! And holding in pee is WAY more manageable than a poo. It comes in manageable waves, and I can force it away for hours at a time.

I didn't want to take time away from our trip — the likes of which we have sorely missed.

We made it to Saks 5th avenue, right across from the tree at Rockefeller, where the building's facade was lit up like heaven — showing off a beautifully intricate display of lights and castles. A sight that I wished I could enjoy more if I didn't have to urinate so badly that I was shaking.

Imodium makes me have to pee

Imodium has been my saving grace in a lot of respects. It has singlehandedly allowed me to live a semi-normal life. It's allowed me to travel, eat foods that I thought were forbidden, and poop once a day in one magnificent mega load. It's not foolproof, but I can enjoy foods that most people take for granted for the most part. There has been one small side effect that I have no real excuse for. It makes me have to pee.

I don't urinate that often, the normal amount for a guy my age. A cursory search on google provides lackluster results. But every time I pop in those pills. One pipe closes, and another one opens. I'm not leaky. I just get the urge more often than normal. And it hits hard. Like I had been holding my bladder for an entire plane ride just to blast away at the urinal until it's ceramic dust.

Right in the middle of that Christmas bash, I asked my sister how long it would take to make it to her apartment in the city in 20 minutes? Not enough time. Could I make it to Penn Station on our way home? Not enough time.

So without warning, I started backtracking to some public restrooms at Bryant Park. Where I just was. Reminders of a piss never taken. I focused my entire being on clenching my Kegels and holding it in. I've never considered taking an L and getting charged with public urination more than on that walk. With my fists clenched, I scanned around alleyways and dumpsters to see if there was a secret pee place where I could shame in peace.

Unfortunately, NYC has a lot of people, especially around the holidays. I was forced to rhythmically breathe and march my way back to the park in silence as my family cheered me on.

Finding relief

I made it. I went from not having to pee to spending a full minute at the bathroom in less than a half-hour.

Imodium is a cruel mistress. It is a devilish minx that lures you in with a siren song of poop-free bliss, only to curse me with a bladder of glass.

Nothing gold can stay, and just because one door shuts doesn't mean another one won't open. I've become way less reckless since and make sure to use the bathroom whenever the opportunity is presented, regardless of the festivities. I'd rather remember the holidays for being a time of love and family rather than that time I did a pee in NYC.