When you live in hotels, you develop a way of living that is very much Alone.
Nobody's watching you! You unpack a certain way. You untuck the bedsheets a certain way. You take your bath in a very particular order.
You spend plenty of time each night on the phone with Room Service, having conversations like this:
Me: I'll have the Pulled Pork Louisiana Medley Sandwich without the bun. And a heaping plate full of whatever kind of steamed vegetable you have today, please.
Room Service: No bun?
Me: No bun. I'm allergic to gluten. It's very boring, and also a tragedy.
Room Service: Huh. Well, then, you can't have the Pulled Pork Medley. It has flour in it. I think. The sauce does.
Me: I think it's gravy that has flour in it. BBQ sauce usually has cornstarch.
Room Service: You sure?
Me: It's cornstarch almost always.
Room Service: What if you get sick or die, though? Because you thought the sauce had cornstarch but it was really flour? I don't know what's in it - the cook's gone for the day. I don't want you to die, now.
Me: I won't die. I'll just get really puffy and look all squinty. And my stomach will hurt.
Room Service: Oh. (Pause) I thought you said you was allergic.
Me: I am.
Room Service: Well, I guess it don't matter, 'cause Kenny says we're all out of the Pulled Pork. And the steamed vegetable is creamed corn, that ok?
When you are constantly on the road, you have plenty of time to devote to bettering yourself. Lots of hobby-time!
There are 19 people, all my age, who have the same job I do, and they all have hobbies.
Kirsten does yogic handstands against the walls of her hotel room.
Annie reads every book that's ever been in print.
All good hobbies.
I myself have a few Hotel Room Hobbies, and there's one I'm particularly proud of:
I can pee standing up.
I've been working on it for the past two years.
AWESOME!! GROSS!! AWESOME!!
You don't believe me?
Two summers ago, I read a smutty story where this hot girl in the 70s was sitting on a sailboat with a whole bunch of boys. All the boys decided to piss off the side of the boat together. (Boys really do this, even though it's super-gay, and now I know why: it's fucking fun.) The hot girl, feeling left out, announced that she, too, could pee off the side of the boat. No one believed her. So she pulled down her bikini bottoms, faced the water, and proceeded to piss a fine, high arc into the ocean. Everybody was super impressed and fell in love with her.
Wow. Those boys in the story weren't as impressed as I was.
I wanted to pee standing up!
Turned out it was totally possible.
Again, why was I taught nothing of value in school? My Living on Your Own class at Bay Port High could have squeezed 'Pissing Like A Dude' riiiiiight in between 'Balancing Your Checkbook' and 'Doing Your Own Laundry.'
It was totally possible!
But it took work.
A willingness to get more comfortable with pee than I had ever been. (Although that part wasn't too difficult. I worked nights in a group home for a year in college.) And now, two years into my little experiment (almost exactly the amount of time it takes to toilet-train a small boy), I can safely piss, standing up, with excellent aim, into all toilets. Don't be jealous.
Now, homos, I know you want to be exactly like me, and I commend that wistful aspiration.
Here's how you do it:
1) Face toilet. Put up seat.
2) Pull down pants. And underpants, doy.
3) Reach down and grab your hood. Point it towards the pissoir.
4) Pee like a dude!
Go to the link below for tips and suggestions! I promise it doesn't lead anywhere bad, porn-y, or have illustrations that are NSFW.
Finally, might I suggest: Practice in the shower first. For, like, a year or so.
And P.S. This is a great trick for the gross gay bar bathroom.
Only urinals? Watch this, fools.