Introduced in 1998, Stadium Pal, a $24.95 strap-on catheter that allows male sports fans to relieve themselves without leaving their seats, was a big enough hit that the device's makers are introducing Stadium Gal, which offers female fans the same, uh, comforts. We sent two reporters—one male and one female—to a Clippers- Knicks game last month to try out the gadgets.
I was living every man's dream: kicking back in a $200 seat, knocking back Madison Square Garden's finest Scotch, taking in the cool celebs sitting within bounce-pass distance: the Beastie Boys, Sandra Bernhard, Magic Johnson. All the while my Johnson was fixin' to work a little magic of its own. I was prepped to take a whiz right there in my chair, and if all went well, never again would I have to kow-tow to my wussy bladder and miss a crucial stretch of game. Two Scotches and the aqueous sound of a Charlie Ward swish later, it was go time. Talk about a sweet release.
The Stadium Pal isn't perfect: I developed a kink in my tubing (go ahead and laugh) that temporarily prevented my urinary output from finding its way into the pouch attached to my calf. Plus, I practically had to summon a mohel to remove the sticky condomlike apparatus from my member later that night. I ended up dipping myself into a glass of warm water to ease the extraction. Still, it sure beat having to wait on line to take a leak next to some Clippers fan with bad aim.
Telltale signs only a man could have invented Stadium Gal: The how-to manual begins by instructing me to "assume a type of 'frog leg' position" and "use a ruler to measure the valva [sic] opening." It goes on to promise me "long-lasting satisfaction." Yeah, like I haven't heard that before.
Nonetheless, I went into this assignment with an open mind and a full bladder. I arrived to watch the Knicks with the Gal's 18 inches of tubing elegantly snaking its way around my fishnet-covered legs. Sure, I had a momentary cork-up when the woman next to me implied I was a blight on the sisterhood when I told her I had on the Gal—"Women would never need this," she scoffed. "Men are just weak"-but something about the announcer yelling "Spreeeeeewell!!!!" opened the floodgates.
And wouldn't you know it: Allan Houston, we have a problem. Even done secretly, peeing in the middle of Madison Square Garden is a shame-filled experience. But that's nothing compared to the embarrassment—not to mention excruciating pain—of spending 45 minutes in a scalding hot shower trying to remove the Gal's adhesive glue from my "valva." Of course I did emerge with a bikini wax, which leads me to the one good thing about the Gal: It brought me a step closer to being a SPORTS ILLUSTRATED swimsuit model.