At around 5:30 a.m., a dozen or so beers and two viles deep, I realized I was having trouble holding in my pee. See, the problem with Berlin is that they don’t have toilet seats to sit on at the club. Not that I would recommend ever sitting on them unless you're piss drunk to the point where you can’t see. I was teetering on that. I’d try to hover, gripping my skirt to avoid pee staining it, just low enough that it wouldn’t trickle down my legs into my boots.
