Just after the police left, we found the phantom pisser...

My story took place during my freshman year. At the time, I was an amateur drinker. In fact, this was the first time I ever tried drinking. Some of my friends and I were bored. We had finished studying, had played the ever-exhausting PlayStation games, and even watched music videos for grueling hours.

“I have an idea,” said one of my friends, “Why don’t we go get some white zinfandel it’ll give us a nice buzz?”

Now mind you I wasn’t much of a drinker and had no idea what was in store. They were used to drinking, but I was simply curious.

We ran out to do a liquor run and soon after getting other people’s input, white zinfandel became Bacardi, Parrot Bay, Andre “Champagne”, along with the White Zinfandel. Being the amateur that I was, I was clueless. My friends found it hilarious as I just tried some of everything until, first the room began to spin and my head began to feel woozy. Then came the stomach upset and the feelings of regret that accompany it.

My next recollection is of stumbling into the hallway for some air. An upperclassman saw me there and immediately inquired if I was all right. I told him I was, but he didn’t believe me since I was lying on the ground holding my stomach. He lifted me up to my feet and holding me up, walked me back to my room and helped me into bed.

Several hours later I woke up to a pitch black room. Only one of my best friends and my roommate were still there and both of them were knocked out. I looked around and with severe pain in my head, just fell back asleep.

Fast forward to the morning.

I was suddenly awakened by my roommate yelling “What the f***!”

With a righteous hangover, I looked up to discover that he had stepped into some piss that was in a great big puddle in the room. My stomach churned at the smell and with the hangover being so potent, I immediately barfed or called Earl as we said in North Carolina (fortunately there was a trashcan there for me to use).

Disgusted by what I saw, I immediately called campus police to file a report. Someone had peed all over my roommate’s clothes, shoes, his towel and even on his bed. After explaining the story to the police, they assured us that they would be more vigilant in the future surveillance of our dorm.

Thirty minutes later, the perpetrator was apprehended by an unlikely source: my roommate and me. When I stood up to go to the shower, still hungover, my boxers were soaked with urine and some streamed down my leg. Then it dawned on me!

I WAS THE PHANTOM PISSER! I was so f***ed up that I must have thought I was in the bathroom.

After profusely, but weakly apologizing to my roommate, while still throwing up from time to time, I cleaned off his shoes, washed his clothes, mopped the floor, and purchased for him new clothes once I figured out the ones that couldn’t be saved (AKA white wife beaters, and socks). r As if all that weren’t enough. My roommate’s response to this situation made me feel the guiltiest.

He simply placed his hand firmly on my shoulder and told me “It’s okay, you were just drunk. You ain’t mean to do dat sh**.”

I wanted to crawl into a corner and die. It would have been one thing if he went off and let me have it. Then, I could feel like it was over and I had been given what I deserved. Even if he hit me, sure I’d have fought back, but then I would again have gotten what I deserved.

BUT, that response for me just re-emphasized the fact that I was a prude without a drop of courtesy and he was just that much better than I was.

Well, that was 5 years ago and still today I am known as Pissin’ Phil. But what can I say, it was undergrad and a time to party hearty. At least after that day, I have been able to hold my liquor ... better!