Sunday, November 6, 2011

The Long Approach

It started as a typical business trip, the early drive to the airport, a cup of coffee waiting for the flight and an uneventful flight scheduled for about 2 hours. I had not been to the bathroom the whole flight since the stewardesses had carts in the aisle most of the time. As we began our approach, I felt the need to pee building, but knew from experience we would be on the ground in about twenty minutes. This I can handle, even though I knew I did not have the worlds best bladder control. As we approached the clouds the turbulence increased and the "fasten seat belt" sign came on. With every bump I could feel the pressure building in my bladder. I contemplated ignoring the seat belt sign, but the turbulence was too severe. As I was really beginning to suffer the captain announced that due to a severe thunderstorm over the airport we would be circling another 20-30 minutes, and please remain seated since it was likely to be a bit bumpy (did you ever notice that airline captains are always prone to understatements). By now I was in agony, sitting with my legs crossed. I eased open my seat belt hoping to ease the pressure a little bit to no avail. I knew I could not wait much longer. As we hit a rather big bump, I felt the a small gush of pee leak out. The warmth between my legs felt good, as I knew from past experience it would. However the small leak did little to relieve my discomfort. I was wearing black dress pants and knew that you would have to look very careful to observe a wet spot this size. I move my hand between my legs and could feel the wetness, wondering how much more there would be before we landed. Ten minutes later we had still not landed, and by now I was in real pain. Not knowing what else to do, I let a long gush into my pants. This time I could feel the warmth build under my butt, and knew there would be a wet spot under the seat. Sitting in the warm wetness aroused me to some extent and took my mind of the pain. I had a window seat and knew I could not get up till the guy next to me left. I hoped know one would notice the wet spots, or my wet pants, but, by now, I was beyond caring. About the time I though I would burst the captain announced final approach. As the plane bounced on the runway in the gusty winds, another squired leaked into my now very damp pants. After what seemed an eternity, it was my turn to stand and exit the plane. As I stood up, I could feel my wet pants and wondered how noticeable the wet spot was. I could see a faint outline of a wet spot on the airplane seat (someone on the next flight was going to be in for a surprise). By bladder and back ached from the built-up pressure. As I reached for my carry-on bag, another squirt leak out and I could feel this one role down my leg toward my knee. I realized my underwear were soaked to capacity, and even a little squirt was bound to be very noticeable. I could barley walk from the pain in my lower back. I wondered if anyone ever had a ruptured bladder, the pain was so bad. I could see the restroom sign about four gates down. As I started to hobble down the concourse the inevitable happen, the pee started gushing out. I could feel the wetness below my knees and into my shoes. I stopped dead in my tracks and managed to stem the flow. Still no telltale wet spot (well not too much anyway) on the floor and no one seemed to notice my plight in the crowded terminal. As I entered the restroom the flood started again. I headed for the nearest open stall, closed the door and struggled to open my pants, by now there was a puddle under my feet, and pee gushed around my fingers. I managed to open my zipper and peed for an eternity before I was finally empty. There I stood, in the stall, soaking wet, shoes filled and a puddle around my feet. My black pants glistened with wetness. I knew I had no option but to change clothes in the restroom. I quickly changed into jeans from my garment bag and stuffed my wet clothes in an outside pocket of my bag. As I let the stall I noticed a few people giving me funny looks, but know one said anything. I, for one, did not care - I felt so much better. When I got to the hotel, I washed my wet pants and underwear in the shower and left them on the curtain rail to dry. I knew room service would wonder if someone had an accident. I also knew when they got around to making my bed and discovered the wet mattress protector, they would know for sure, but then, that is another story. Until next time . . . . -the end-