|Have you washed your hands today|
Mr. Tyson chicken pee-er?
While we're on the subject of disgusting people, what is it about men, especially truckers, peeing outside? I understand if you're Grizzly Adams, living out in the wilderness with a bear, why you'd need to pee outside. But when you're 50 yards from a building with indoor plumbing, not so much.
|Grizzly and Ben,|
looking for the perfect pee spot.
In the wild.
If you do happen to be Grizzly Adams walking through the forest with a bear on your back and need to pee, the dirt and grass will soak it up. Peeing on pavement just sits there in a puddle, waiting for some unsuspecting person and their dog to walk through it.
Walk through a truck stop parking lot on a hot day and you'll soon discover the pungent aroma of urine, wafting up to assault your nostrils and make you wish you had a touch of anosmia. And the ability to hover.
I realize I'm painting a rather nasty picture of truckers, they certainly all aren't that way. Himself would never in a million years pee on the pavement; with or without a bear.
But I think that being alone for long stretches of time must do something to some trucker's brains that makes them think they are all alone in the world and that no one can see them peeing in broad daylight in the middle of a parking lot.
I didn't confront the Tyson chicken pee-er because I only saw him as we were leaving the parking lot but I did call the company and let them know that they had a public pavement pee-er in their midst.
|Guess where his hands are right now!|
One time, while walking the Jas, I saw a trucker at a rest area peeing between his truck and trailer. I walked up to him and said he was giving decent truckers a bad name by being so nasty. He at least had the good manners to look ashamed but his wife came out of the truck and yelled at me that it's no different than my dog peeing outside.
Yes, she compared her husband to a dog.
Well lady, my dog licks her own butt and eats goose turds.
Of course I was too flustered to come up with that witty response, so I just yelled something back at her along the lines of, I know you are but what am I? The yelling went on for a while until we just kind of fizzled out and I walked away.
I'm not good at fighting.
In fact, even though I was the one who started it and it was a confrontational situation and I was being yelled at, I let it go on too long because I didn't want to be rude by walking away before the wife finished yelling. I blame it on my upbringing.
That's called southern hospitality y'all.
This is not Grizzly Adams, but I'd like to think he and Guy on a Buffalo would be friends. And they would never pee on pavement, even if they were straight up being mauled by a cougar.