Saturday night R and I left the apartment to go to R's birthday celebration at her friend's house. With each of us carrying a cake for the party, we approached the elevators and could hear a very loud argument that sounded like it was coming from the shaft on the right. Yelling, cursing, and general discontent could be heard as we kept our fingers crossed for the elevator on the left to arrive first. Ironically, this was the elevator we were going to wish we had missed. The doors on the left opened first and we stepped quickly into a large puddle covering the entire floor of the elevator (which is thankfully rubberized).
"There's a lot of water on the floor in here," R commented.
"Well, it is raining," I said.
"Still, it's a lot of water," R exclaimed as the doors opened in the lobby.
We were met with a very strange scene: One of the many different security guards that work different nights in the building was yelling at two men. One of the men was wearing only a t-shirt, boxer shorts and socks and the other had a broken nose that was bandaged and two black eyes that were swelled shut.
"You see," said the security guard to the man in boxers pointing at R and I as we stepped off the elevator, "people are walking in your urine!"
Disgusted, R and I decided to stay to see how this would all pan out. We had seen these two men several times before and, like this time as well, we had never seen either one of them sober. On one occasion, shortly after the first Bush-Kerry debate, we had had the pleasure of riding in the elevator with the boxer-shorted man (hereafter referred to as "el Urinador") and learned that he "liked bush". If only I had taken the chance to explain that it's not about whether or not you like the guy, he might not have peed in that elevator.
I digress. El Urinador was looking particularly unsober this evening as the security guard explained to him, "you either go get a mop and clean it up or I'll mop it up with your head."
This seemed a bit silly, though I wouldn't have put it past this particular guard as he's a lot bigger than any of the other guards I've met.
A small crowd of different tenants had gathered around to watch el Urinador and his black-eyed partner get yelled at. This was apparently not the first time that the Urinador had relieved himself somewhere outside of his apartment and inside the building, which may have explained why the guard was particularly irate. It also may have been the fact that this time el Urinador had peed directly in front of the guard and mocked him mid-stream.
As R and I were watching, a door opened to our right from one of the apartments on the ground floor. A bleary-eyed teenager came out and gave me a look to see if I could explain what was going on. Just as he did, the guard repeated his yell of "you pissed in the goddamn elevator!"
"That's about the whole story," I said to the latest spectator, who smiled and stuck around to watch.
After a bit more yelling and with another tenant threatening to "go upstairs to call the police," the guard and el Urinador started pushing each other a bit. El Urinador was eventually placed in the elevator, but jumped back out as the guard was trying to get the black-eyed friend to calm the urine producer. Again, el Urinador was pushed towards the elevator, but this time the back of his head came into contact with the corner of the elevator doorway and he immediately slumped to the ground. He was back up in half a second, but seemed a bit more subdued as blood began to trickle down the back of his neck and onto his shirt.
At this point R used the phone I'd already handed her and dialed non-emergency police (311 for those that don't know). A minute later, as the guard had just left with el Urinador and friend to accompany them upstairs to get a mop, the police arrived. They were a lot quicker than I thought they would be, but I realized why when I recognized the first officer as "that tall red-headed guy that always gives people parking tickets in front of the Whole Foods on the opposite side of the block."
R explained what had happened and was backed up by other tenants in attendance. The cops said they'd just wait downstairs for the guard and drunks to come back down and we didn't need to stick around.
On Sunday night we ran into the guard again and asked him how things turned out.
"They didn't even file a report," he said, "This guy has been doing this forever, all the time. Thanks for calling the police, though."
Every person I told this story to since Saturday has immediately asked where I live in DC. I don't think location has too much to do with it, since these guys could be drunk anywhere, but I always give them my address anyway. (Who wants normal people moving in around here any more than they already have?)
I've definitely learned a few things from this, though.
First of all, that Urinador guy is a Bush supporter.
Second of all, he urinates in enclosed places that aren't his or anyone else's bathroom.
Third of all, he does this when wearing socks and no shoes.
Bush can have him.
I've also learned that el Urinador definitely does not suffer from shy bladder syndrome, but instead may suffer from Urolagnia. Part of this article also mentions the fact that "Male porcupines use urine to soften the females' quills before mating." So perhaps, just perhaps, el Urinador was so drunk that he thought he was a male porcupine, the elevator was a female porcupine, and that he was finally going to make his move.