Anger on a Plane



A post from occasional contributor FoxyNic

I don't always understand why I have the urges to be uncooperative or violent, perhaps It goes back to the animal instinct in me that just hasn't died out quite yet. Or perhaps it is in conjunction with lack of impulse control that follows anger issues. All I know is that there seems to be only two options, just accepting my fate or doing something about it. Now this is where it gets tricky; I could accept my fate and let the resentment built like the pressure behind a hose where the nozzle is off but the water its turned on full blast, this will most likely yield poor results as understood by how physics works eventually the pressure will become too much for the nozzle and blow shooting it off potentially maiming or even killing someone. Or the even more dangerous option: action. This only results in danger if the state of mind is in an irrational state. Although even rational people do irrational things. Sometimes I wish I had better control over how I responded to a situation. 

Case and point, here I am sitting on an airplane and after consuming a beverage in the morning to get me alert and able tolerate this four and a half hour flight, now at this point my bodily functions have alerted me that it is now time to void my bladder yet the flight attendant is currently passing out more beverages blocking the very narrow isle. This causes two problems for me; one, do I get up and use the restroom before they come possibly missing my chance to get a drink or do I wait until after they've passed by and I've finished my ginger ale? The rub here is that even after my drink is consumed; the process of handing them out takes much longer and now I am stuck to either wait as my bladder builds pressure and a possible infection ensues, or I can try my luck at using the first class lavatories. Unfortunately those are guarded just as tight at knox, which brings me to my inevitable irritation with the whole situation. Clearly first class passengers pay more for certain luxuries; larger seats, warm towels, better service, priority boarding, more room in general and closer lavatories. But why do they seem to get exclusive rights to the front lavatories, how many first class passengers are there in ratio to coach passengers; that's a lot more bladders and a lot more urine. So i sit here contemplating my options and i think about what might happen if i try my luck at the first class bathrooms; of prior experience, the stewardess will tell me i need to go back to my seat or try my luck with the rear bathrooms as these only for select passengers.

Now i wouldn't say i have a short fuse or that i am some kind of psychopath but after being put through the song and dance that is now our airport security, the fact that i have to bag up my tiny little bottles of "liquid", remove my shoes, pay extra to check my bag, and get visibly molested by full body scanners I'm definitely worse for the wear. Not to mention when i get to my gate instead of a nice civilized line its some hoard of people all trying to force their way on to the plane first, the so called order they try to apply to boarding gets lost as there are a million exceptions to the rules so that half of the passengers that weren't supposed to be seated are already on the plane taking up overhead storage space. Don't even get me started on the price gouging the comes mid air with internet access and horrible plane food that one can barely stomach in the first place at prices that would cause riots back on land. This all on top of my other neurosis in my life; am i going to do well at my new job, will i survive the weekend with my family, will i get any sleep with the time difference, what will become of my relationship.

However even after being called the weaker sex i can still manage to not to lose my shit, literally. Although the pressure on bladder is persistent and all i can imagine is throwing a fit in the front when the attendant refuses to let me pass; i imagine cussing at her and the front passengers exclaiming loudly about the unfairness and then popping a squat in the middle of the isle and pissing all over the shitty fabricated "carpet" feeling such a sense of vengeance and relief. The pure carnal satisfaction of relieving my bowels where i know it is wrong, yet so right. Now we all know per the world wide news from the breakdown of mental faculties in other individuals that this behavior would cause an immediate landing and most likely a spot on the no fly list. Since i like to travel, especially to see my family, i can only fantasize about this outburst in my mind. Smirking about how wonderful it would be to right a so ridiculous wrong with out the grave consequences to follow. 

Yet i continue to sit here typing away instead. This is my solace, instead of suffering in silence i let my imagination complete the horrid task the impulses in my primal brain, the ultimate offense and yet the most baser need of a human. Which is why i say no exclusive bathrooms, not in public buildings or restaurants and not in air planes. Though i don't have any control over my imagination and all the sick and twisted things that go dancing about in my brain i do however have some control of my body; besides the fact that i have to ask two people to move out of their seats before i can even reach the isle. So inevitably and rationally i wait with out complaint or snide remark for my seat and cell mate to get up and politely as ever used this opportunity to use the bathroom as well. Unfortunately to him this was an excuse to try and become chummy with me, and if you are like me the last thing on your mind is to have a meaningless conversation with some stranger that you'll never see again on a tin can with the words Alaska Airlines plastered on the outside. Especially when you feel as if your bladder is about to pop. So. Mr. Chatty and i make our way to the rear of the plane and wait in the accumulating line of people who also had to make that difficult decision to wait or not to wait.

They might be trying to engineer a new, cleaner, more streamlined bathroom for new planes and let me tell you it isn't happening soon enough. I suppose you'll have to pay more for a ticket to use those puppies too, as if this world isn't racking one large bill per person already. Soon it'll be like the movie the lorax where large corporations make bottled air a commodity and give ads men job advertising it to rubes. So i complete my business; relieved and ready to get out of the tiny stinking closet and trying to avoid getting get that nasty blue "liquid" on my pants, when i step out only to find the trash pickup cart heading my way and as i look around i realize there is no where for me to get around it. The result is realize myself and the four others who just wanted to get back to the cement block that is our seats have to stuff back into the sewer boxes to allow the cart to pass. So i curl back behind the door keeping is cracked slightly as not to plunge into complete darkness except to get by the stewardess with the cart has to forcibly shut my door to jam the damn thing by trapping me in the lavatory. If you can imagine the fear and disgust when faced with no escape from this flying disease trap and my urge to vomit was very strong in those seconds that felt like an hour. Finally free from the tiny hole i made my way back in line with the other sardines in row 22, praying to the diety of flight that i wouldn't have to use the bathroom again.

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