funranium | Entries tagged with public urination

I would like to improve the diet of the homeless for some very selfish reasons.

So, Berkeley has a variety of colorful street people that inhabit the environs of Shattack Avenue hoping for some of your spare change. Some are very clearly Not Quite Right In The Head and have earned nicknames. For example, Screaming Lady who (until I learned otherwise yesterday) I was convinced spent her entire day sleeping on a bench at the bus stop except for when she woke up to scream and shout at the top of her lungs for a couple minutes. There is also Uni-Dred, a man with horribly matted hair that has merged into one networked Cthuloid dredlock.

Next, we tackle the issue of public urination. Every day I park in the bottom of the Addison St. garage and walk up either of the two staircases which invariably reek of awful, lingering, clothes-permeating urine aroma. The kind of smell that tells you that its creator is not eating well and may have underlying health issues.

The businesses of Berkeley have a decidedly public toilet unfriendly stance because of the cleaning and damage issues that are well known due to the same street people, gangs, and goddamn teenagers *shakes cane to get kids off his lawn*. The only genuine public toilets I know of downtown are in the library and I never want to go in those again. So public urination, and thus the associated eau d' vagabond, should not be a big surprise in light of the lack of available facilities.

Smells are one thing. Encountering their creation in progress is another.

Yesterday, while returning from lunch, I looked down an alley on the way to the office and was treated to Screaming Lady squating in the middle of the road, pissing like a race horse.

This morning, while walking up the stairs, a pungent cascade was streaming down the steps causing me to beat a hasty retreat and use the other not-as-recently-befouled stairs.

I can handle the idea of public urination. Much as French tourists annoy the shit out of me, I understand the sentiment that causes you to whiz on the wall of the Vatican after standing in line for a couple hours. But I am sure that Paris smells a great deal better than the territory marking Screaming Lady does. Perhaps it has something to do with haute cuisine...