Airline Toilets

Don't fly Continental. Why, you ask? Well, this is an actual story that happened to me this christmas.

I was flying back from Houston. I had spent the better part of 6 days traveling; two 18 hour car rides in a minivan with three 6'2'' men and one 6'7'' man, and my mom, then 4 flights that connect Rochester-Newark-and Houston. So, i was pretty worn out from traveling and just anxious to be getting home. I'm one leg away from my final destination, sitting in the Newark airport. I've got like 45 minutes to kill and UCONN is playing so i park my ass at the airport bar and enjoy watching Kemba Walker's learning curve.

(UCONN side-note: Why can't Hasheem Thabeet play like he is 7'3''? He plays like a biggity bitch. I mean, for christ's sake, there aren't even that many other 7 footers in the big east, let alone 7'3''. He's not Shawn Bradley tall either, he's got some body to him. I need for Hasheem Thabeet to suck some of Dwight Howard's life blood and start averaging 25 and 15. Either that, or start Jeff Adrien at center and run a 4 guard offense with Stanley Robinson as the 4. Stanley Robinson will at least battle for some boards...honestly.)

Now obviously I wait until the last second to board the plane, because what good does it do to get on early, all you end up doing is sitting on the plane not drinking beers, when you could be sitting at the bar drinking beers. So, I get on and this plane is a shuttle plane, for flights that are around and hour or less. I have the first seat, so I take it and sit down. I'm not really listening as they do the announcements, because I just got the Kings of Leon CD and I'm really into it. So, we take off and they start drink service. I get one more beer, why not, and sip and read Larry birds awful biography. After the attendant walks pass me, I feel the call of the wild and get up to take a leak. Unfortunately for me, the bathroom is locked, even though it is unoccupied. I ask the stewardess what the dilly is and she informs me that the bathroom is broken on this plane. (Dun-dun-duuuuuuunnnnnn) So, I ask if I can squeeze by her to get to the toilet in the back of the plane. She informs me that there is no toilet in the back...just the one in the front....that's broken. So now I'm a little frantic. What does she want me to do? There's still a half hour left, plus taxi time, plus the time it takes to set up the walkway, plus the time it takes me to run to a bathroom. My best guess is 50 minutes minimum that I need to hold it. I've never gone 50 minutes. I have options though. A near empty water bottle is in my bag, and it's big enough to hold the biggest piss. So now I make a moral decision.

Do I tell the stewardess I am gonna pee in the bottle, or just do it? The seats around me are empty and it's dark. No one needs to no. I just can't do it though, it's weird, and it's wrong. So I tell her that it is truly an emergency and that I am going to go ahead and rectify the situation using my tools. I just want her to know so she doesn't get all freaked out. Then, she tells me that I am not allowed to do this, which doesn't surprise me at all. Of course you're not allowed to piss on an airplane in a bottle. I ask her what she wants me to do, thinking she had my interest in mind. That was a poor decision, because she does not have my interest in mind, which seems funny to me since I am the paying customer and she is the woman paid to serve me on this flying prison with no working bathrooms. The minutes tick down, and I contemplate my fate. I could try and sneak a pee in, but she is watching carefully and even with my sweatshirt over my lap, she'd know something was up. Apparently there would be heavy fine and possibly jail time for this. I am nearly ready to take my chances, but then landing starts.

Landing only takes a couple minutes, but you need to factor on time for taxing and the time it takes the retards they call flight crews to attach the walkway thing, plus the time it takes me to run to the bathroom and get my brand new button down jeans low enough to squirt my johnson out of them. So, we land and I stand at the front door with small drops of urine percolating out of my man thing. Large, cold monkeys scream things that no one can understand across the walkway and eventually attach it, on the third time. I bolt to the nearest bathroom. I have been pinching myself, punching my legs, and biting my lip for the last 40 minutes, holding this bad boy in. My abs have been clenched for that whole time. I get to the airport bathroom. It's disgusting, as all airport bathrooms are. At this point, I don't care. I drop my bag into a puddle of, most likely, baby piss, throw off my sweatshirt, aiming for the bag of course, but missing....of course, and I get my jeans down just enough to allow my willy to snake out and start what was and probably stay the most rewarding piss of my life.

I am crafting a letter explaining my disappointment in their service, and stating that I will most assuredly never fly with them again. I am doing this mostly for the slim possibility of getting a free ticket somewhere. If i do get a ticket, I'll let you know that it is OK to fly Continental again.