While we’re on the subject: at a bar patio on the Lower East Side not long ago, some friends and I witnessed a man urinating into his empty beer mug. When he finished, he set the mug on the table in front of him, plopped back down on the porch swing (next to his smiling, entirely nonchalant date, who’d seen the whole thing), and continued his conversation.
One of my companions muttered, “If you’re going to whip it out in the middle of a bar like that, you better have something substantial. That looked like a tiny turtle head.”
Fortunately, I didn’t scrutinize things closely enough to know if she was right. But the description has stayed with me all the same.
I’m aware that this anecdote marks a new low here at MaudNewton.com. Still, if you’ve read this far, you followed the “more” tag. Did you think you were going to get Shakespeare on pissing-conduits running with claret wine?