cold and horny

There’s a little more to the “to pee or not to pee” story that I left out. Remember how I said that the Lil Pisser managed not to get the crap beat out of him that night? Well, here’s how.

First a little more backstory. After a great day of riding at the Taiba Lagoon, the most toxic mix of Best employees ever assembled together under the planet decided that it would be fun to have dinner and drinks at the hotel in Pecem. Oddly, the hotel had run out of cachaca (the most popular alcohol in Brazil), so we’d stopped at a local market, bought 3 bottles of the stuff, and told the bartender to “keep the caipirinhas coming.”

Add 3 bottles of cachaca to an already volatile combination of personalities, and things are bound to get ugly. One thing kept leading to another, and I ended up crying back in my hotel room, where I immediately fell asleep, only to be awoken about fifteen minutes later by one of the other team riders.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Stacey, you have to come back down. Alvaro peed on Shannon and Bucky and they’re going to kill him.”

Oh, crap.

I get out of bed, he fills me in on what just happened, and we head back down to the scene of the crime. I wouldn’t exactly say that the Lil Pisser is “crying like a girl” but he’s visibly shaken, holding his ribs, and he looks scared, as rightly he should. Everyone else is kind of standing around looking shell-shocked yet non-involved, and Bucky and Shannon are furious.

Clearly, the night needed to end. No more drinking for anyone. Everyone back into their own corners. This was right before the PKRA finals, and the Lil Pisser was flying out in the next couple of days, so it was important that nothing bad happened to him, so that he could compete. I was afraid of what might happen to him if he went back to his room at the team rider house where Bucky and Shannon were also staying, so I said, “You can either go back to the team rider house and take your chances, or you can sleep in the spare bed in my hotel room.”

He picked the safety of my hotel room.

One thing about Brazil is this: it’s hot. It might be windy, but it’s hot, and the hotel I was staying in didn’t have any air conditioning. It didn’t even have proper glass windows, just the wooden slatted horziontal shutters that you can open and close with a stick. But it did have a tiny little air fan, which I had on full blast, trying to keep the room as cool as possible (it wasn’t working). But Europeans are different, at least the ones I know. They hate air-conditioning and are always cold, even when it’s hot inside.

“I’m c-c-c-cold,” said this one, recoiling at the sight of the fan. He was shivering, with his arms wrapped around himself, trying to stay warm in 80 degree weather. “Brrrr. I’m cold; cold and horny.”

What? For crying out loud.

“Well, I can help you with the cold,” I said, and turned off the fan, “But I can’t do anything about the horny.”

I get back into my own bed and fall asleep, immediately.

When I wake up next, the Lil Pisser is sitting on my bed. Seriously? I’m old enough to be his youngish mother. I don’t say anything; I just turn over and go back to sleep. The next time I wake up, everyone is sleeping nicely in their own beds where they’re supposed to be, and all is right with the world.

And that is how the Lil Pisser managed to survive the night, without getting the crap beat out of him.

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