Stagefright Blues

Returning to clubland has brought back something that I'd almost forgotten: my horrendous, pathological, near-crippling stagefright.

I cannot pee if somebody is watching. It just doesn't happen. I'm standing at the urinal and hear somebody walk in behind me and some valve somewhere just slams shut.

It's always made clubbing quite an exercise in tactical urination. I know the clubs that have lousy bathrooms. Bathrooms with no stalls, or no doors on the stalls. Bathrooms where there's always a line, and thus always somebody staring at the back of your head waiting for you to finish so they can have a turn. Emo's, for instance, even made it into The Onion, their bathroom is so awful.

And I know the clubs that have nice bathrooms. Stalls with doors. Privacy. Low traffic.

If I was in a club with a lousy bathroom, I usually could figure out the nearest place that had a better one where I could go pee if I had to. Many's the time I made the trek from Liberty Lunch (one long trough...what a nightmare!) up to Waterloo Brewing Co. where I could take a nice leak in the dark in the back stall.

My friends all think I have the tiniest bladder in the world. Granted, I do, but it's worse than that. I'll head off to the men's and they'll say "Dang, Ray, you just went!"...but what they don't know is that the last time I went, some asshole was standing behind me waiting his turn and unknowingly giving me The Fear, and so the whole operation was a bust. I'm still full. I'm going back to try again.

And as it turns out, sobriety has not saved me from my tiny bladder the way I wished it had. Coffee, energy drinks, water, and near-beer all tend to go through you.

So, for your reading pleasure, and future reference: where to pee and where not to pee at SXSW if you aren't capable of just whipping it out anywhere.

Blender Bar @ The Ritz: Fuggetaboutit.

Emo's: You have got to be kidding me. If you're at Emo's and have to pee, zip on over to Lovejoy's and cross your fingers, you might hit the bathrooms at a lucky moment.

Latitude 30: Easily the most lovely bathrooms on 6th Street. Two stalls, one urinal, and clean clean clean. I went twice. Kristi reports that the women's was equally spectacular.

Momo's: Just OK. There's one stall, one urinal, kinda gross, but it's close to the stage, so if you're one of those people who can stand to be seen but not heard, you can go in while the band is on and it'll be loud as fuck so nobody can hear you tinkle.

Opal Divines: Really a great pee. Two stalls, one urinal in the men's inside. The nice thing about this one is that there are port-o-potties outside during SXSW, and so since most of the less-inhibited guys just use those, there's little competition for a stall in the indoor facilities. Only downside is if you're really unlucky and end up at the urinal, every time the door opens all the girls in line for the women's room can see you, and if you think you've got stagefright now, just wait til you've got the ladies watching you too. Not a fucking drop, I'm telling you, and if you try too hard, you risk letting loose a fart, which is not a good way to pick up chicks. Or so I'm told.

Buffalo Billiards: This is really the big secret pee palace on 6th Street. Downstairs here is not part of SXSW, so there's no line to get in and no cover. The downstairs bathroom is huge, but the upstairs people can't use it since they'll have to get back in the wristband line to get in to where the bands are. Three stalls and a bazillion urinals, so plenty of elbow room. Sure, it's kind of a disgusting dump, but you're just taking a piss, you're not there to hang out. I'm not, anyway.

So, that's all the peeing I did all weekend. Hope this helps somebody.

And in between potty breaks, I did manage to hear a little music this weekend too. If I can think of anything to say about that aspect of the festival that's as interesting as my journal of pee, I'll post it tomorrow.