"Phil's 10-Step Toilet" joke

The year is 1976 and I am 11 years old. The place is my old neighborhood in The Bronx (pronounced “Da Bronx”) and it is during a lunchtime break from the torture known as sixth grade. My pal James and I managed to sneak in through a service door to a local high-rise apartment complex with the hope of meeting its most famous tenant, baseball great Willie Mays.

This was not an original idea, as every boy in our school tried to do the same. No one ever got to see Willie in person, but James and I seemed to get closer than most (we made it to the door of his penthouse apartment, but we were informed by a woman on the other side of that door that our intended target was not home).

As luck would have it, a fellow classmate named Philip lived in that same apartment complex. So James and I rode the elevator down to his floor with the hope of catching him at home (and perhaps snagging some goodies from his pantry – it was lunchtime, after all). Admittedly, it was not the most desirable consolation prize (unlike the elusive Willie Mays, we saw Philip every day), but at least it would keep us busy and perhaps well-fed.

Alas, Philip was not home. Dejected, James and I headed to the elevators. But for whatever reason, we opted to take the staircase. And that’s where the trouble began.

I don’t know why (and I still can’t figure it out), but James issued me a challenge at the top of the staircase landing on Philip’s floor: he boasted that he could outdistance me in a urinating contest on the staircase. Clearly, the idea of using a staircase as a toilet never occurred to me – but at the time, it seemed like a brilliant notion. Hell, anyone can take a pee into a porcelain bowl.

Furthermore, my sense of adventure was piqued. Could I pee my way down a staircase? To the 11-year-old me, those 10 steps from top to bottom landing seemed like an Olympic ski jump. But I thought I could outdistance James.

So James and I stood at the edge of the staircase landing, unzipped our flies, took out our 11-year-old manhoods, and did the one-two-three-go routine. Initially James got off to a strong start, hitting the fourth step, while I was stuck at the second step. But then I began to catch up by making an arc my urine flow. We tied at the seventh step and went down the stairs in unison until we both hit the bottom landing. Needless to say, the tie was a disappointment since we both wanted to secure bragging rights.

After zipping up, we remembered the elevators (the staircase didn’t seem like the best place to travel, considering what transpired) and we went downstairs and then went back out the service entrance that gave us access. We made it to school in the nick of time.

The next day, our friend Philip confronted us in a decidedly non-friendly manner. It seems the janitor for his apartment complex was making the rounds and came upon that staircase. Oddly, the janitor blamed Philip for the mess and informed his parents. Now why the janitor would blame Philip (since he lived on the floor in an apartment with a working toilet) made no sense, but Philip nonetheless added two and two and came up with the only two goofs he knew who could turn a staircase into a urinating championship forum. Naturally, we denied everything.

Still, I look back in awe at this accomplishment. I’ve never won any sporting trophies, so the knowledge that I could pee like a champ means a great deal to me (even more than meeting Willie Mays).