I peed next to Bob Fosse once.
It was at the urinal in the men's room at the old Broadway Arts rehearsal studios. He entered, walked up to the urinal next to mine, unzipped, and stood there, cigarette dangling from his lips, deep in thought.
As he peed, the ash grew longer.
I was transfixed, mesmerized. I didn't move a muscle, for fear my very air current might break the spell.
He finished his business before I did, zipped up, washed his hands and left.
I don't know what happened to the ash.
Updated On: 7/20/15 at 06:14 PM