To pee or not to pee

I have an ample amount of time while here on campus, and so, I have decided to share a thoroughly humiliating anecdote.
Not so long ago, I was in Saratoga Springs visiting one of my friends (something I melodramatically chronicled a few posts ago). I was crashing at her house and spent my days meandering through the town while she went off to work. One day I came back in the late afternoon and found that the door was locked. Something I thought her many housemates would prevent from happening at that time of day.
This fact, in itself, was not a big deal. I was quite prepared to wait out the few minutes necessary for someone to come home.
At least I was until sudden bladder issues presented themselves. Too little time to trek back to town and use the restrooms there. Too far away to walk back to campus and use its facilities. I was forced to deal with the reality that I needed to urinate and soon.
I looked around the sparsely wooded yard. Two sides bordered a highway with continuously moving traffic. One side was too close to the neighbors house. The yard itself was relatively secluded, but what if at that moment a housemate decided to come back. I would be there, my fly undone, my wang out, standing in the middle of the garden and peeing on their flower beds. Not exactly houseguest of the year material.
The only area that seemed "private" enough for me to do my business was the small strip of woods behind the shed. It separated the backyard from another property, however, I could see no one out there and my mind had already ruled out all the other possibilities as unacceptable. And so, I navigated through some prickly bushes while edging along the perimeter of the shed.
When I at last reached the back end, I prepared myself mentally to pee. I was going to do this. All I had to do was unzip my fly, stick junior out, and make it rain. I had urinated in public spaces often while intoxicated, but somehow then the thought of peeing in an open space made me feel impure. As if I was on the verge of committing some unwholesome act on the same level as perverts who masturbate in movie theaters. I was going to "turn" a beautiful picture (nature) into something that society deemed dirty. How could I do such a thing? What if a child were watching? Then again, I really did have to pee.
In the end, urge overcame artificially constructed morality. I whipped junior out and, sparing you the details of course, urinated all over the local flora.
Now there's an old debate between the sexes about the proficiency of men and urination that predates the "men leave the toilet seat up" argument. Peeing while standing is perhaps the only thing that a man can do better than a woman. However, as any woman will counter argue (often pointing to the toilet ring as proof) the ability to do so easily does not necessarily equate to "good aim." I do not know who is right in this argument. Though in regard to myself and peeing, I neither have luck nor skill.
As I was urinating behind the shed, a little boy came out to play in the yard. He saw me and made a gasping sound. And like a true idiot, I turned around, junior and all, in the direction of the noise. Unable to stop in midstream, I pissed on the patch of yard right in front of where he was standing.
I was horrified. I felt like I had ruined the world for this young boy. How would he explain this to his parents? Then again, it's not like this was anything new. He, after all, had a junior of his own. Feeling better, I finished my business and walked away without saying a word. He would be fine.