Tuesday 30 August 2011

Plane Entertainment

I actually look forward to the washrooms at the airports. They are always really clean, large, have the latest in toilet tech and for me they are entertaining. Not in the weird “I’m looking at other men” way, but more in the let’s see what evil I can do, way.

When some men use the stalls, they will let their pants drop around their ankles on the floor. This has always seemed as if it were a poorly thought out technique. I have always kept my pants at the knee level. It just makes sense.

Now, perhaps due to shyness or performance anxiety, some men have decided that the seclusion of a stall was what they needed when nature called, and then for some reason missed the bowl and hit the floor. This isn’t a problem if you keep your pants around your knees.

Years ago I realized that I could use these unfortunate airport pants droppers for my entertainment. All I have to do is to wait for a relative lull in bathroom usage and pour water from my bottle onto the floor at the precise spot where pants will drop. Well, I have a bottle sometimes, but if you don’t you just have to improvise. Then, you just wash your hands and exit the washroom and take up a position across from the washroom and wait. Most people that are heading out have taken care of their toilet before leaving home, so they generally aren’t your target. In any large airport there are always incoming flights constantly. These people that are arriving or having a layover are your best bet. I love to watch people anyways, so I wait with a smile on my face looking at the people going by and wondering just what their stories are. Small kids that are so full of energy and their parents that look to be one step away from total exhaustion or murder. Young couples on vacation with smiles of anticipation, older couples coming home or just about to see the grandkids. They all come by the restrooms.
I stand there leaning on the wall beside husbands holding two carry on bags and purses, waiting their turn to use the washroom. My intended victims! It really doesn’t take too long before someone comes out. They are easy to spot because of the murderous scowl on their faces, not to mention wet pants. They walk away gesticulating wildly to their spouse, pointing at their pants and looking for some poor airport worker to blame. I usually start to feel that I shouldn’t have done this horrible act just to amuse myself for a few minutes.

I go back to my wife and she sees that I don’t have a coffee or a chocolate bar and asks what I have been doing. “Oh, just went to the washroom and watched some people going by.” I don’t tell her about my little game because I have the feeling that she might not approve. They call our flight and we wait to board till the line gets down to two or three people. My way of thinking is that I will be sitting for quite some time anyway. I like an aisle seat and my wife likes the window seat, so naturally I end up sitting in the middle seat. I guess that while I was in the rest room I should have taken care of my own business. Being trapped in the middle seat, I am very reluctant to get up to go to the bathroom when the urge strikes. I am a man so I can go almost indefinitely between pit stops. Even though I am advancing in years I take pride in the fact that I have the bladder of a twenty year old. Unfortunately my sphincter belongs to a man of nearly sixty years. Three hours into the flight I really need to get to the washroom. Just as I am about to make my intention of getting up known to the lump next to me the Fasten Seatbelt sign comes on and the pilot tells us of turbulence between here and our destination.
Shit! I try to release the pressure, but that can be a crap shoot at the best of times. Yes, yes, it is quiet and it doesn't smell. Thank the Gods! No, I was somewhat premature. My wife looks at me and I jerk my head to indicate that it was the lump. I glance over and he, who hasn't moved or opened his eyes for the entire flight is just staring at me. I babble something about us flying over a feedlot. Now I am in the middle of two people that have no desire to talk to me. By the time we arrive at our destination I have cold sweat beading on my forehead and my cheeks are clenched so tightly I am getting a cramp. The trip to our gate is interminable and of course everyone stands in the aisle just as soon as the pilot asks us to remain seated.

We finally get to where the washrooms are and my wife gives me her bag and goes to the women’s washroom. I'm sure that she knew my predicament, but I am equally sure she didn't care. When she finally comes out I make a beeline for the nearest stall. Well, never the closest stall, but one towards the middle, I don't know why, it’s just better that way. It is surprisingly difficult to undo your pants when your sphincter senses the proximity to a toilet. I pull my pants down being careful not to drop them on the floor, for obvious reasons, and thankfully my butt hits the seat at the same time as I achieve blissful release.

What the hell? How did the seat get wet?
Jesus! If someone needs to piss, there are about forty urinals! No! This dickhead has to use a stall and doesn’t have the decency to sit down! Now, I have some strange guy’s urine all over my ass! Fuck! We have a three hour layover too. I can’t very well wash my ass in the sink. I wonder if Louise has any of those sani-wipe things in her purse? I wash my hands with extra hot water and lots of that useless foamy soap they have at the airports, hoping that the cleaning effect will somehow clean my ass.


I walk out of the washroom and I am pretty sure there was steam coming out of my ears! I am just about to tell Louise about the asshole that couldn’t piss into a hole about a foot around, when I notice this young guy about thirty leaning against the opposite wall with a big smile on his face.

Well played my friend! I make eye contact for a moment and give him a two finger salute acknowledging that I am in the presence of a master. He grins and walks in the other direction. I couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t have a bottle of water with him.



  1. You've got me just howling here this lovely summer morning, and I'll be telling my friend that I walk with each morning this story. From that point our talk will deteriorate I'm sure, and should make for a interesting walk. It reminds me of a trip back from Mexico, and the young kid in front of us crapped his drawers and the parents did nothing about it until this old lady complained to the stewardess. Good thing no one pointed fingers at you on that flight! B

  2. Well, it is cold and raining which would be a beautiful morning on the island I suppose. Here, we think sunny and warm is the best. Oh well, to each his own. Hmmmm...Mexico sounds nice!