The year was 1993. A bad ass year by all accounts. I was a young lass of 13, living the good life. I was cute, and due to a solid reputation I had built for myself, no one f***ed with me. The roller rink was the place to be, and on this fine evening I was patronizing an establishment a couple towns over with my bestie since 1st grade (who is still my bestie to this day, holla) and another girl we hung out with. Generously dropped off by my bestie's mom, we had an evening of freedom ahead of us--skates, nachos, and BOYS. We scoped out the prospects for a bit, when a tall drink of water asked me to skate with him. He was hot, so naturally with much giggling and whispering with the girls I agreed. We tooled around for a bit, flirting awkwardly with wheels strapped to our feet as only young teens can. I had to go to the bathroom, but it could wait. This was serious business. So I made the fatal mistake--I pushed it. I skated and skated with this cutie until I couldn't take it anymore. I excused myself and headed toward the bathroom. What follows is nothing short of a Benny Hill skit. The second I stepped off the rink, Satan and all his minions were conspiring to keep me away from the bathroom. There was the birthday party of 8,000 elementary schoolers that I had to deke, my friends furiously clamoring for deets, THAT DAMN CARPET that slowed my skates to a crawl, a curious gaggle of middle aged women, and the fact that I had to essentially do the Pee Pee Dance with what felt like snow tires attached to my feet. I had waited too long, but I was determined to make it. With a fire in my belly (bladder), I approached the ladies' room with what felt like an unnatural slowness reserved for running in dreams. I was almost there. The promise land was within my grasp, and I longed for the sweet release that freeing my myself from my ripped denim would bring. I got to the door, squeezed the handle, and was stopped mid-door swing by The Boy. "Hey, you ready to skate?" That was it. My moment had passed. The crushing realization that I was too late dawned on me with an icy shudder wherein I turned to look at him, shrugged, and peed my pants whilst looking him directly in the eyes. I owned it. I asserted my dominance like a dog marking a bush. I continued to stare him down as it dawned on him exactly what was happening. He skated away in disgust as my bestie skated up next to me. We looked at each other for a brief, fleeting moment before she broke the silence as only a bestie can--in the most deadpan of voices she said "Dude. Did you just piss your pants?" Thankfully I have no shame and we proceeded to break into hysterical laughter. the rest of the night is a blur except for the vague memory of driving home in her mom's car sitting on an old blanket. I never saw The Boy again, nor did I (forever thankful that this didn't happen in my town) set foot in that roller rink ever again.
I'm pretty sure that was the last time I ever wet my pants while sober.