I’ve been threatening to write about how to pee while wearing a gunbelt for years. Decades, actually. There’s a visible line between crass and funny that we each see differently, so forgive me if I cross yours, but here goes nothing.
First the equipment. Not the plumbing, the uniform. It’s important to understand what stands between a woman and matters of urgency.
The main trousers that I wore while working uniform were the straight navy pants with a yellow stripe down the outside of each leg. The summer ‘dress’ (which was not a dress, but the prescribed uniform pieces for summer) meant wearing the lighter weight synthetic pants. Think McDonalds uniforms in the 80s and you’ll get the picture. You could tell who put theirs in the dryer because the yellow stripe was of a different material and would pucker at the seam where it was sewn to the polyester. But I digress. For winter dress, (again – not an actual dress) we wore the same trousers but they were thicker, woolen pants. I rather liked the winter pants. They were warm and cozy and somehow the fit was better. Which said a lot because they were not designed for the female figure. There were also very weirdly designed padded bike shorts and shockinly large uniform maternity pants that I managed to fill out but that’s for another post.
Before the duty belt could be put on, an ordinary belt needed to be put on and cinched snugly. The issued belt was black leather with a buckle. Nothing remarkable, just a plain, sturdy belt.
Then came the duty belt. While duty belts now are nylon with velcro, mine was black leather with a basket weave pattern. It was about two inches wide and went over top of the regular belt hiding it completely. The duty belt had a metal buckle that meant business and could only be moved to adjust for size by separating it completely from the leather. It had double vertical holes to hold the metal prongs in place. To connect the two belts together, we used ‘keepers’ which were loops of black leather that fastened with sturdy metal snaps. The belts had to be snug and stay connected to each other all the way around the waist. If one needed to draw one’s weapon, one’s pants needed to stay where intended.
There were several pouches and accesory holders that slid onto the duty belt and stayed there ad infinitum. Most of them were black leather with a full back, adding thickness between the two belts.
Looking down, the first thing to the right of my belt buckle was the double mag holder, holding two magazines each containing fifteen 9mm rounds. The holder was black leather and the two compartments snapped closed like tall skinny envelopes if envelopes were of thick leather and had snaps. The snapped covers of the mag holder were pointed toward the belt buckle, so that under pressure I could pull one of the snaps open with my left hand without looking.
Continuing to my right, just before my holster was a keeper. One before the holster and two after the holster. Always. The holster was some type of hardened plastic shell with three points of retention, all to be released in two quick motions without looking. After my gun was my extendable baton and yet another keeper. Then there was thankfully some empty real estate that allowed me to sit in the car without too much digging into my back. In the middle of the back, I always wore a keeper on either side of the large fabric flap that came up in the middle of the waist band and buttoned over the two belts.
On my left hip was a large metal clip that a portable radio was slid onto upside down and then swiveled right side up to swing securely. Pre-digital, pre-satellite and prehistoric, they were large and heavy with a long rubber coated antennae. They also had a long cord extending from the top of the radio connecting to a small square microphone that clipped on the chest The stories of microphones being unintentionally left on by someone’s derriere are true. Thankfully it never happened to me but happily I was on duty when it happened to others. We all need a chuckle now and again.
There was also a nylon holder for a short stubby cannister of pepper spray, a thick keeper with a hanging snapped loop for keys, a keeper with a steel ring for hanging a long metal maglite and finally a leather pouch with handcuffs just to the left of my belt buckle. Those were the bare necessities. One could also add a pouch for a multi-tool, a pouch of latex gloves when those became ubiquitous, but my waist was at capacity with just the essentials.
As I pull up, I see the car that left the road. It’s off the side of the on-ramp on its crumpled roof. Everything goes quiet. I park on the shoulder, say something into the radio, get out and shut the door, clip my keys on the keeper. I smell burnt brakes, but there’s no noise. I break into a jog. Each footfall of my ankle boot is followed by the sound of my duty belt rising and falling. My hand goes to my baton to make sure it doesn’t fall out. I hear the leather rubbing and the rattles from my belt in pounding rhythm with my breath. I start down the hill.
“Hey, I’m over here!”
I don’t take my eyes of the car. I need to get there quickly without falling.
HEY, I’M OVER HERE! “
I stop and look up to my right. There’s a man standing there. It takes my brain a second to shift gears.
Is there anyone still in the car?” I holler over.
“No, it was just me.”
I was only in uniform full-time for five years but I remember. At the end of each shift, it was a relief to pull the belt tighter to release the two metal prongs. Then I would pop the mag out of the butt of the pistol and set it down. Next came the pistol itself – out of the holster, action racked to expel the round from the chamber and a second rack and a peek/poke to make sure it was empty before being locked away. Then it was time to pop off all the keepers and finally, take off the belt with much of the equipment still attached. And finally the regular belt came off and my back and waist could sigh in relief.
When it wasn’t the end of the shift however – when nature called and it was a matter of urgency, the belt needed to be dealt with. I’m not sure what other women did, because it wasn’t discussed. I don’t remember ever having a conversation with another police officer about how they handled public bathrooms, lack of public bathrooms, being in the woods, or being in the snow when matters of urgency arose. But I can tell you what I did. Drumroll please…. In descending order of preference, here is how a woman can pee with a gunbelt.
- The stop and drop – If the planets aligned and one had access to a single stall bathroom, both belts could be unbucked, pants unzipped, and while holding both belts, the whole kit and kaboodle could be pushed down to the floor. It wasn’t the most sanitary solution but it was the best of all of the possibilities.
- The purse hook or lap method. – if the only option was a public bathroom with multiple stalls, one really couldn’t have ones pants and pistol visible to the world. So one would remove all the keepers, place them in a pocket and ever so carefully hang the 20lb belt off the hook in the stall. In absence of said hook, one would have to drape the belt over one’s knees or hang onto it with one hand making sure the baton didn’t fall to the floor.
- The peeing in the woods method. This is one that most women can relate to in general. The only difference is that it involves holding the duty belt and checking VERY CAREFULLY before taking care of business. Hypothetically, one could accidentally pee on one’s duty pistol and thereby have to stay up late after shift taking it apart and cleaning it.
- The front door/back method – if one worked, let’s say in rural Nova Scotia with no public restrooms open after 8pm, and one had nerves of steel, one could use this risky method. Parked off the road as far as possible, a person could open the front and rear passenger doors, thereby creating a little pocket of quasi-privacy between the doors. When there were no vehicles in sight, a peeing in the woods position could be assumed with one hand holding the duty belt and the other holding a door for balance. If however a transport truck were to go by whilst in mid procedure, one could use the balancing hand for a quick wave in response to the toots from the air horn.
- The deep snow method – if one were working with a male partner, the front door/back door method was not advisable. And if it were winter , this desperation method could be employed with great caution. One would tramp down the snow once one got far enough in the woods to not be seen from the road and use the techniques as outlined in 3 and 4.
And that, my dear friends, is how you pee while wearing a duty belt. Plain clothes was another issue altoghter involving a mike wire that went from the waist up and out a sleeve, but that’s all I have for tonight.
A quick proof-read, no AI. Just me, writing.
Thanks for coming along for the ride.
Sandra
Leave a Reply