Il faut qu'elle fasse pee pee

I dearly wish this story were mine, but I've got to give credit where credit is due: it's Blake's story.  But it was too funny not to share.

Blake's been fighting a sinus infection off and on for the past couple weeks, so I've been picking him up at the metro in the evenings when it's particularly cold.  The other day he got in the car with mixture of glee and disgust on his face and a fabulous story to tell.

The metro was packed and he was holding onto the center pole.  A woman who looked down-on-her luck (or, mostly just drunk) and two of her friends squeezed themselves into the car and held onto the same middle pole.

After a few minutes the lady poked Blake in the side and asked "Can I pee here?"

Blake didn't want to engage...or even ask what she meant...so he started sidling over to the other side of the car.

As he was backing away, but still watching the woman, she dropped trou and started peeing.

Let me repeat that.  SHE DROPPED HER PANTS AND STARTED PEEING ON THE METRO FLOOR.

She piddled a huge puddle.  Folks sitting around her were taking pictures and videos to report it.  And Blake could hear the puddle piddling from across the car.

Then.  Get this.  The woman and her friends stayed on for THREE MORE STOPS before getting off. That is 10 minutes standing in a puddle of pee.  On the metro.  In the middle of a crowd.

That's what I call city living at its finest, folks.