I opened my eyes and saw my cat staring back at me. We have become pretty close over the past weeks and she tends to sleep on my chest while I am in bed. I guess after the whole refrigerator ordeal this place wasn’t too shabby. I said good morning to her and she responded by opening her mouth and heaving. It was a full body heave too. Kitty hurl splattered upon my face and bed. I knew this was a sign that it would be a rough day.
I go into the office and for the most part things were normal through to lunch. Maybe I was wrong to assume just because Ms. Pattie decided to blow her “Tender Vitals” on me that it was a sign of impending doom. Lunch time arrived and against my better judgment I joined the “Lunch Table Girls”for lunch. It was rare for all of us to actually leave the building for lunch and even rarer for them to invite me to join them. I was hesitant at first, thinking that it may not be such a great idea, then riding along in Linda’s backseat and finding out that we were going to some Indian place I knew I had made a mistake. Indian food and Mike are not friends. I mean I eat the stuff but it always comes back to haunt me. I think it is the curry or some shit they put in their food. I was hungry so at this point it really didn’t matter and I figured that I would deal with it.
After lunch, I was told that I was being sent to DC for a task that I really can’t go into, but is something that I do not dig. I was to complete a full day at work, then go home, quickly pack and get on a puddle jumper to Chicago’s O’Hare. From there I had a three hour lay over then board to fly to DC, get in late, get up early, perform the task and turn around and repeat.
Upon our decent into Chicago I felt the first rumblings of protest from my stomach rejecting the Indian food. I reached up to twist the air thingy fully open as a sweat began forming on my scalp and forehead. The cramps were intense as my bowls argued with my stomach as to who was to blame. The pressure from the seat belt was not helping matters. I flagged a waitress, I mean stewardess over and asked if I could use the bathroom (in my condition turbulence could really turn this situation worse). She told me that due to our preparation for landing that I could not leave my seat. I tried to speak as quietly as possible and leaned over to her and explained the situation. She was not sympathetic to my situation and told me no and walked away.
We were taxiing to our gate and I was facing a dilemma. Not only was I puckered to the point I wasn’t sure if I could walk, not only were the cramps and pressure so bad that I feared I would spring a leak through my navel and never mind the tears streaming down my face, worse than that, I would have to face the “Away Game”phobia. Those of you that know me understand that I do not like or deal with shitting anywhere besides my own throne. In fact I rarely do. With that said, add in the fact we were talking airport facilities on top of Chicago O’Hare facilities and I am now wishing I were dead.
I hobbled off of the plane relishing and dreading the moment my cheeks hit the hard plastic seat. As I hurried down the long terminal corridor, my carry on tilting on its wheels behind me, I searched for a sign. The international blue sign that in my case meant relief. I approached the spot and once there realized that times have changed and we have come along way as a nation. There in between the Men and Women’s facility was a door. The door said “Family”. I had no time to analyze. I threw open the door and hurled my luggage into the rather large, clean and private bathroom. It had a lock! What a concept. My pants hit the floor and dangled around my ankles and I’ll bet my ass hadn’t hit the seat before I unclenched and expelled the toxins. I sat there in agony as the Indian food, now liquid bile, shot out my ass like the great flood from the bible. The smell was horrendous. The pain came and went in waves as I cursed the “Lunch Table Girls”. I sat there trembling as the last of it splashed into the water beneath me. I thought that I heard the door a few times, like someone was trying to get in, but that was the least of my concerns. Right now I had to manage to clean up with the “No Ply” five cent paper provided. I did just that. With my bung clean and raw from the experience, I gathered myself got my trousers back up and on, washed and recovered my tattered luggage. I went to flush the commode and it clogged. Not only did it clog but it began to over flow. The smell that minutes ago was harsh was now like cologne in comparison to the stench over flowing from the bowl. I didn’t need this or have time for it. My stomach was empty and I was hungry again. I unlocked the door to leave and came face to face with people, kids, a guy in a wheel chair and a guy with a key. The maintenance dude said “This is for families and the handicap”. I apologized and started to walk away quickly as I heard the sounds of disgust at the discovery of the family shitter and the mess I had left. Shouts came from behind me, but I never looked back. So, how was your day.