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MPB last won the day on September 4 2014
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When I was younger, around 19 or 20 I believe, I attended a concert festival that lasted three days in the late fall. The air had already gone chilly and I wore one of my favorite hoodies, bringing along only another change of clothes and a jacket. Being an outdoor festival, restroom accommodations were limited to those all-too-familiar blue or white plastic outhouses that begin to reek after the first few hours of use. Not that I’m opposed to using outdoor, public restrooms; I’d just rather not if I have the choice. The first and second day, I found somewhat secluded spots behind trees or bushes to pull down my pants and go. A few times I came close to getting caught, and once I even had to stop mid-flow and scurry off. I dribbled a little bit, but managed to regain control and only a few drops showed on my jeans, which dried quickly. Since that happened on the second day, that night I changed my panties in the tent we brought, but kept on the same jeans, since they were my favorites and I didn’t completely pee in them. On the third day, for some reason, there seemed to be many more people in attendance than the past two days. When I first had to pee, I looked around for a secluded spot, but gave up realizing I wouldn’t find one in time, so I got in line for the portable restrooms. The line, of course, was stupid long. I wasn’t on the verge of peeing my pants quite yet, so I stayed in it. Five minutes later, though, I was beginning to worry. I watched on as people puked in line from being too drunk, or high, or whatever. I saw a few guys give up and just pee behind a tree. I even saw two girls leave the line and walk away, openly peeing their pants as they walked toward whatever band they were catching next. No one seemed to really notice, or care. At that point, I decided that if I were to stay in line, I wasn’t going to make it anyway. So I drew a breath, walked out line, and peed in my pants as I walked toward another show. Later that afternoon, I met up with my friends I came with and they didn’t even notice I had wet my pants at first. They were both tripping and were off in their own world. After an hour or so though, my friend M asked me if I’d had an accident and I told him I had. What’s the point of being embarrassed about something you decided to do? He just laid back and said something along the lines of, “That’s cool.” Given our tent was a bit translucent during the daylight hours, I waited until nightfall to change back into the panties I was wearing the day before, and into the second pair of jeans I brought. The next day we drove back home and my friends have never brought up that particular episode again.