all pist in the supermarket

I return just now from the Shur-Save, née Foodland, where the man in line behind me, I believe, peed his pants.

I was in the one line of the two that were open that did NOT have several seemingly abandoned carts in it, holding down a spot in line for a master who was running to snatch some cottage cheese, behind a disturbingly well-dressed TV-detective-looking man who I took to be a head honcho police officer of some sort based on his conversation with the Foodland Cop. Up from behind me walked an ancient man, small and frail, who said to me: "I asked the woman where the men's room was, and she said in the back, and I went back and I got lost." He was kind of laughing. He then predicted, "Pretty soon I'm gonnna be out there pissin' in the corner!"

I played along, not knowing where there was a bathroom in the joint. "Yeah, all that's in the back that I know of is the meat cooler, and I don't think that's what you're looking for . . ."

As you might imagine, this was rather uncomfortable. I turned back toward the cashier, no words were said for a short period, then he piped up: "IIIIIIIIII might have to go back there again . . ."

I smiled, he started back a few steps and stopped. The smell of urine was present in the air. He stepped back in line, shifting a bit. This was even MORE uncomfortable. I was mostly done with my purchase (pierogies and apple cider that is not good) and I wanted to get the hell out, so that HE could get the hell out, and let loose in the parking lot.

I have no idea if he was drunk or just old, as he was a bit slurred and apparently had little control over his stream, and those could both be symptomatic of either condition. I felt bad for him, I identified with him to some extent (see past tales of peeing one's pants, which I may or may not have related in these archives), I couldn't help but be a little bit amused. He was taking it pretty well in stride there in the supermarket, but at the same time he just HAD to share his situation with someone, and that someone was me. I would have been okay with it had he just kept it under wraps -- in fact, the urine smell would probably not have surprised me one bit, and I would have attributed it to the produce (or the cider in my hand).

I guess sometimes you just gotta tell somebody.