For me to get to the Dealer offices in downtown Cincinnati I have to pass over the beautiful and majestic Roebling Bridge.  This distinct icon of the Cincinnati skyline was a precursor for it’s much beloved and more famous sibling, the Brooklyn Bridge.

Every morning I revel in the beautiful view and my breath is taken completely away, only not by the view.  I gasp and hold my breath as long as possible because of the numerous piles of shit that are sporadically dropped along the walkway.

One particular pile is a giant.  Bloodied and soft.  A formerly white sock has completed it’s duty by wiping the ass of a seriously deficient bowel and now lies in a stinky death pose just a few inches away.

A little farther up, another pile.  Healthier.  Smaller.  A white sock not necessary.  This is regular.  This is meat and potatoes.

A little farther, nearer to Ohio, a wet spot appears, and it hasn’t been raining.  The smell of urine permeates the air and there is a small trickle from the main spot to the edge, and into the river.  As I pass, I think about the jet skiers and kayakers frolicking on the old Ohio, having great fun.  And I wonder if they will smell the urine on their wetsuits when they get home?

After a ballgame, it’s not uncommon to see a couple of dudes peeing off the bridge.  Homeless people are even more common.  Why is their such a lure to piss and shit on that bridge?

I guess if I were homeless and had nothing to look forward to, I would piss off the bridge too.  The view is spectacular.  But the rest of the people, supposedly educated and born with moral and ethical standards, should know that if one has to relieve themselves, that it would be appropriate and civic to relieve ones self in a more conducive environment that is geared towards bowel and bladder evacuation.

When you gotta go, you gotta go, but I have to say, there are a lot of people who don’t plan ahead. Everyday there is a pile of shit and mini-rivers of piss blanketing the Roebling.

Every day I step cautiously for fear that my shoes will find an intimate moment with some person’s digested meal or a puddle of piss formerly known as a 40oz.

I fear these things more than a mugging.

I wonder what happens to the feces?  Do birds eat it?  Does it break down and find its way into the river?  I guess these are questions better left for the people that run this city.  And if the city doesn’t see this as a problem then I would like to request that there be toilet paper dispensers and sinks installed so that those assbags that can’t find a real toilet can wash their hands after they have finished their duty.