Matt and IanWhat happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Well, what happened to my husband and me in New York last month is no longer staying in New York.

After the European vacation and tour ended, my husband and I had three and half delightful days to spend in New York City. We arrived at our hotel in Chinatown around 8:30 pm, freshened up since we had been on a plane all day, and started our venture for a late dinner.

After a lovely walk around the East Village, dinner, and drinks, we ventured back to the hotel. It was now around midnight. We were exhausted from traveling. One of my husband’s band mates was also staying at our hotel, and while we were out, he had decided to stay at the hotel bar and have a few drinks. When we returned and saw him at the bar, we decided to run up to our room, drop off our coats, and come down for a final night cap.

I finished my sake, and told the boys that I was done and would be going to bed. I went back upstairs to the 9th floor, changed into my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and got in bed. For some reason, I always sleep on the right side of the bed at home. For unknown reasons, I crawled into the left side that night (a fun fact there for you about how I sleep). Oh damn! Another fun fact: I only pull the corner of the sheets down on the side I sleep in and wiggle in underneath them. The left side of the bed remains intact (end of fun facts, you’re welcome).

Around 12:45am, my husband came creeping in from the hotel bar. He took off his pants (sexy, non?) and got into bed. I was watching TV and he was typing a blog on his laptop when he said to me, “are the sheets wet?” I just didn’t answer, that was a dumb ass question. So he repeated, “seriously, I think the sheets are wet.”

I grunted (sexy, non?), turned over and said, “I turned the heat down super low, they’re probably just cold.” Apparently, that answer was unacceptable.

He said to me “really? You don’t feel that the sheets are wet? Feel over here.”

In taking a cue from Fat Amy (horizontal running…anyone?!), I did a horizontal foot/leg reach over and started patting my foot on his side of the bed.

“Huh, that does feel kind of wet,” I said as I slowly began to sit up.


My husband slowly lifted the sheets just enough that I caught a whiff. In that one second everything changed. I started yelling. “That smell! Oh, God!” At the exact same time, in slow-motion, my husband threw both of his hands up in the air. I swear to %&*#ing God: he levitated. As a lion roar left his mouth, his body shot up from the bed and he somehow Jedi mind tricked the shower into starting. Before I scurried out of bed, he was in the shower cursing the world.

“THAT’S PEE!” he screamed. “I was just in @#$%ing pee. This is not okay. No, God, no, &^%$ing get down there and tell them this shit is not okay. Oh god…” (This went on through his whole shower by the way. What a drama queen!). I put on my Steve Madden boots (specifics added here for all you that need a comfy cute traveling shoe, highly recommended by moi), and threw my coat over my pink butterfly pajamas – yes, pink and butterflies (judge away haters) – and trolled down to the front desk. I explained the situation and was immediately given keys to a new room.

Once we were in the new room, my husband called down to the desk and explained the whole situation again, but with way more emotion, since he was the one that was lounging in urine.

Turns out, the people in the room before us? Well, one of them peed the bed. Housekeeping changed the sheets, but didn’t realize the mattress was still wet and ripe and threw clean sheets on top of it. The manager, Omar, was very nice, and upgraded us to a fancy new room with an amazing view and wrap around balcony, discounted our stay, and hooked us up with a bunch of fancy snacks. I love snacks, except for chocolate covered raisins. Next time, Omar, how about some chocolate covered strawberries? Just saying…PISS-IN-THE-BED.

My husband was pretty traumatized over this event. I mean, he should be. He was like a steak…just sitting there in a marinated pocket of piss (or this…BAZINGA).  I, on the other hand, thought it was hysterical. It made for a great story for the rest of the trip when we met up with friends and family.

The one thing I realized after recounting this story is that I might not have washed off the foot that I used to caress the urine pool. Oh god, I just threw up in my mouth a little bit

Kacie Baum is a professional partier, mother of two pugs, and the wife of Matt Baum. She tolerates the constant presence of the Two-Headed Nerd in her home each week. She did not write this bio. Pre-THN entries of Girl Meets Nerd can be found here.