Flying Port-a-Potty

flying port-a-pottiesI get to travel quite a bit with my husband and it’s always an adventure. Sometimes the adventure is the destination. And sometimes it’s the journey. Like using the bathroom on the flight. It’s amazing enough that a big hunk of metal can fly with 200 plus people inside it, but to put six port-a-potties on it too, that’s impressive.

Not impressive is the size, which make a bathroom in an RV seem roomie. Which is why I normally hold out for the airport bathrooms rather than the flying port-a-potties. That is until recently when I was rushing from the plane to the ladies room and tossed over my shoulder to my husband “Wait right here for me.”

Too late, I realized the man behind me was not my husband but a stranger that was giving me the thumbs up.  Rather than going back to explain, I gave a woman $40 for her hat hoping to sneak past him.  It might have worked too, but with my head down I ran smack right into him.  Panicking, I grabbed a hold of the nearest stranger, forcefully dragging them past him as I crooned “There you are darling.” in a British accent.

By sheer coincidence I had latched onto my husband, who was flattered that a mysterious foreign woman was trying to seduce him.

Flying solo opens up other problems with flying, such as sitting next to a complainer.

“We’re packed in here like sardines.” whined the woman next to me.

Which, of course, isn’t true.  If we were, we would all be laying down spooning each other, which would be much more comfortable.

“Air! I need air!” she hollered, opening all the air vents above our heads so we could breath the jet fuel and dehydrate our eyeballs at the same time.

“It’ll get better once we’re airborne.” I said, trying to reassure her. “I fly quite a bit. You’ll be fine.”

She look at me like a stuffed animal that could suddenly speak: Shocked that I could talk and not sure whether to be intrigued or throw me to the floor and stomp on me.

“If you fly all the time, you know people don’t like to be bothered by chatty strangers.” she snapped.

The awkwardness was short lived as the flight attendant came into view.

“Stewardess. Excuse me! Stewardess! I can’t sit here. My tukhus doesn’t fit in this high chair size seat.”

Without dropping his greeter smile, the male flight attendant responded  “I believe we have a few extra seats in Expanded Comfort.” Which is code for wide load.  “It’s just a $25 upgrade.”

“Twenty-five dollars! That’s ridiculous.” she said with a frown then looked at me. “You go. Then we’ll both have more room.”

I really don’t like to lie, but sometimes in the heat of the moment things just come out of my mouth.

“Actually” I began cheerfully. “I wanted to talk with you about an amazing new line of beauty products I’m selling.  Are you familiar with pyramid marketing?”

She bolted for the wide load seats and I got to enjoy that extra room she mentioned.  It was a pretty sweet flight.  I even took a $200 order for beauty products from the lady behind me that overheard our earlier conversation.  Which began my short lived career as a pyramid marketeer. But that’s another story.

Please follow and like us:
onpost_follow

Author: Shay

Shay is an action/adventure screenwriter and humor blogger. She has been married to Prince Charming for 24 years and they have two amazing and talented children.