On November 24, 2007 I got the surprise call around 12:30 PM that someone was giving me a couple of tickets to the Bedlam football game that day. On such late notice I knew I was already going to be late so everything I did was expeditious. I quickly dressed for the game and made arrangements for my parents to watch my kids until the wife could pick them up after her wedding shoot. After a few last minute arrangements, a friend (Hi, Tracie) and I were finally on the Creek Turnpike in south Broken Arrow headed towards Norman. As we passed through Sapulpa I realized I was hungry and had to pee. I decided to stop at McDonalds in Stroud to take care of both urges in one, efficient stop. However, when we got to the golden arches I saw the food line inside was very long so I proceeded to grab a burger in the drive-thru. After tossing the pickles, we were back on the road – I still had to pee.
After a grueling last leg through Oklahoma City & Moore, we finally arrived in Norman. My urge to urinate was growing as fast as OU’s score in the first quarter. We drove around for another seemingly 60 minutes (although it was only 10-15) until we found a place to park. Thankfully, we were able to sneak into a donor spot near Memorial Stadium. At this point, my bladder had grown to the size of Pistol Pete’s head. I felt I was going to suffer the same fate as Tycho Brahe (look that one up).
After a brisk painful walk, we made it to the stadium gates. As we weaved and coughed our way through what seemed like a Marlborough convention, I saw the “Men’s Restroom” sign shining like a beacon in a sea of crisp crimson caps. I made it to the restroom, stood in a short line, and began to take one of the longest pees of my life. Do you remember that scene from Austin Powers after he wakes up from his cryogenic state? That was me, but I had clothes on and I am less hairy.
As my body was returning to normal, I heard a couple of guys commenting behind me on how long I was standing there. I acted like I didn’t hear anything and just focused on the empty bottle of Jack Daniels that someone left on the urinal. Keep in mind, I had the only orange on in a restroom full of Sooner fans. I was not about to talk back with my pants unzipped. After a few seconds, my left leg collapsed — someone knocked my locked knee loose and I nearly peed on myself. DID THAT REALLY JUST HAPPEN?!? I cut my stream off and turned around to see the guy behind me to the left staring above me at the cinder block wall on which the urinals hung. He had that look on his face like you did in middle school when you would tap someone on the shoulder and pretend it wasn’t you. However, this wasn’t a middle-school aged boy, this was a thirty-something year old man. On top of that, this wasn’t even your typical redneck OU fan that enjoys noodling for catfish or blowing up frogs while everyone else is at their day job. This was a clean cut person who probably did some type of professional work for a living. Still in shock that he would do that, I asked him “WHAT ARE YOU DOING” in a loud voice. His face turned as red as his hat, but he kept staring ignorantly at the wall – but everyone else looked at me. (Yes, I zipped up by now.) I took a step closer and asked him again. Still no response. I knocked his hat loose and he finally acknowledged I was there. The rest of the conversation is a blur because I was so dumbfounded that someone would actually do this to a complete stranger while taking a leak. He eventually apologized. I looked up and saw 100 Sooner fans with dropped jaws. I accepted his apology and left. The most disappointing thing about the whole ordeal was that I didn’t get to finish peeing.