My bladder has consistently proven itself to be one of my trickier organs. In the past, I’ve been compared to pregnant women, children, and once, a goat. The latter was in another country. One where the goats pee quite often, and at inopportune moments.
My inopportune moment would turn out to be a bit more technologically complicated than that of a goat. But in the grand scheme of things, a frequent pee-er (for lack of a better word) will always be a frequent pee-er, no matter the gadgets, the country of origin, or even the species.
Another difficulty that many frequent pee-ers might be familiar with, is the lack of a cut-off valve. Now, I know I’m getting pretty scientific here, so try to keep up. While some folks can turn it on and off like a faucet, others cannot. This is a key piece of information moving forward.
So let’s get to it. There I was, on a dark and stormy Tuesday night. I was in the bathroom, shirtless, staring at myself in the mirror (as is often the case on Tuesdays). Soon, I began the intricate task of trimming my ear and nose hairs (Please, stop throwing your panties at the screen, ladies).
Suddenly, my phone rang. Not a text, email, or social media, sort of notification, but an actual phone call. Suffice it to say, this was a harrowing turn of events. I scrambled away from the sink and stared down at my pocket, in disgust.
In that same instant, my bladder sprang a surprise of its own. I was now scrambling to unbutton my trousers and hop over to the toilet. With the seat up, and my unmentionables out, I got down to business (Remember, no cut-off valve).
The phone rang again. Who on earth was calling me? And without so much as a text, to warn me of the impending call. It was 2017 after all, and I was under the impression that we’d moved past phone calls.
Unless of course, this was the sort of news that could only be shared through live conversation. Deaths, births, and bizarre sexual encounters, being the three standard scenarios I knew of that allowed for this.
I shoved one hand into my pocket and pried my phone out. While trying to balance the phone, my pee stream, and also swipe that damn green button, I lost my grip…
…and down, down, down, it went. Flipping in slow motion, like a televised Olympic diver, milliseconds before a career destroying belly flop.
Sploosh. This was the worst kind of gold medal. The kind with pee.
Because of my aforementioned lack of a cut-off valve, I continued to whiz as my phone descended into the bowl. I silently cursed the heavens, knowing the terrible maneuvers that I would have to set into motion.
It all happened very fast, then. I flung my arm down, toward the pee-filled bowl. In doing so, my hips tilted away from the toilet, thereby forcing me to pee on my jeans. At the exact moment I began peeing all over legs, my hand broke through the murky water, in a desperate search for my befouled phone.
An accurate interpretation of events.
Finally, with my bladder emptied, and phone in hand, and also way too much of my body covered in urine, I stood triumphant… okay, maybe triumphant is too strong a word. But I was standing there. You know, covered in pee.
Sure, I still had to rinse off my phone, and my hands, and my jeans, and more esoterically, perhaps a part of my soul. And yes, I still had the chore of chopping through a forest of nose hairs, but the worst of it was behind me. A toast to small victories.
Luckily, the S7 edge is kinda-sorta waterproof. Not to speak for the nerds that designed the thing, but I’m guessing they made these advancements because of just such occasions.
Perhaps this scenario was worked out during Samsung’s beta-testing. Or perhaps one of these science nerds dumped their phone in a random toilet, while out chasing Pokémon’s, or whatever it is nerds do on their off time.
Regardless, it’s a helluva device. Kudos to them. I’m currently writing this blog entry on it. An entry which was inspired by it. And I’m writing it for people who I’m connected to because of it.
Thought of in those terms, saving my phone from the toilet was almost like saving a group of drowning people.
I’m kind of a hero, when you really think about it.
Nik Was Here 