Um, Um, Excuse, Um, Um, Nevermind

6:33pm on the plane from Los Angeles to Amsterdam


The friendly yet aloof Dutch gentleman to my far left has not stood up to use the bathroom in 5 1/2 hours (5 1/2 hours[!]) and has been hibernating for 3 hours as if he’s sleeping on the most comfortable mattress in the known universe, thereby sequestering me against the window like a pitiful fly, confused and anxious. Meanwhile, I watched with eager, anticipatory eyes as he mindlessly chugged a bottle of cherry coke earlier, my mind blissfully frolicking with visions of him yawning awake and lumbering to the bathroom.

Unfortunately, this is not a man with prostate problems. This is a man with a bladder the size of Texas. I think the entire population of Delaware could fit in there. Certainly a kindergarten class. I am not entirely convinced he is even human. Perhaps it is some anatomical anomaly of Dutch people—this ability to drink fluids and—what? They transform magically into vapor? Something is not right. Something is not right and I am very aware of my aching bladder and nothing will change unless I do a heroically gymnastic somersault over both John and the gentleman and desperately catapult myself into the bathroom before either person wonders why a rather large object seems to have swept over their heads. Alas, I am out of ideas, and I am very trapped. I even allowed some rather enjoyable farts to escape like clever prisoners in a last resort to scare him temporarily away. I am not quite at the point of touching that “The Secret” nonsense of thinking positive thoughts to get my way, but I’m closer than I’d like to dignity crumbles like stale graham crackers at the slightest whiff of how close I am. 

Alright! No choice but to talk to God: Siri, what is the English to Dutch translation of “I have to pee, you weirdo! Don’t you? Move your ass!” Sigh.

Tyler Graves