LA Times - part 3

..........Feeling realaxed. mmmm. Relaxed? mmmmmm - Vaguely catatonic is a better description.

It was time for those final farewells, and near to passing the point of no return.

Looking down, I checked myself out -not in a narcissistic way, just aware for the first time today, of what clothes I was actually wearing.

No jacket, boots, Olive green T-shirt,and stone colored combats. These summer clothes were going to be reduntant for a while, and that made me sad.

I left it as late as possible, as I had zero intention of wandering duty free - That would be one adventure too far, in my condition.

No, it was going to be farewells to my friends, through the final boarding card check, and straight to the gate number, to wait out the boarding.
I knew I would be unconscious in approximately 20 nanoseconds of sitting down, and was seriously looking forward to it.
There would no airline food assaulting my digestive system today, thank you very much.
Sleep was going to be the order of the day....

We Hugged. We said our goodbyes. They fucked off.
And so there I was, on my own.
With a heavy feeling, I trudged off to the boarding card, final check, thingy.

Not one to dwell, especially when traveling, I determinedly set off to find my gate.
Walking briskly – well, it seemed brisk – it was probably more of a shuffle. (considering )

I suddenly remembered I REALLY needed to pee.
Clever bladder, congratulations on reminding me.

It was a double win actually, for it gave me the chance to have a crap.
I HATE going for a dump in airplane toilets.
(except that one time I had an encounter with a girl wearing a hijab, but I'll tell you about that some other time...)

So going to the toilet, just before flying, minimizes that potential ordeal ever happening.

If there is one thing good about airports (in fact, probably, the ONLY thing good about airports), is that there seems to always be toilet within a short walking distance. Today was no exception.

Unbutton, trousers down, sit.
'Must remember to not fall asleep, once I sit down,' I kept telling myself, as I sat down.
This was definitely not beyond the realm of possibilities.
Stay awake!
Whatever you do, you are nearly there. Enjoy the pee, enjoy the having a crap.

After staring at the cubicle toilet door - for what I thought was maybe too long, (time had a very elastic quality, at this point.) I couldn't be sure exactly how long I was sitting there, in truth.
Staring blankly at a very blank door. - There wasn't even any witty graffiti to entertain me.
I realized I HAD drifted off...just a little...not fully. I was fine.

Everything was fine.

Standing up, and pulling up my trousers, I realized everything was not fine.
Not fine, by a long, long way.
There hasn't been a measurement of distance, yet invented , to calculate how far from fine this was.

During my chilled reverie on the toilet, and while enjoying the sensations of emptying my bladder and bowels, I failed to notice one little thing (pun intended).

My cock hadn't pointed down, into the bowl. My little fella, had been dangling-over the edge of the seat. And joyfully streaming into my stone colored combats, every.... last ......drop.
And I had needed to pee. – A lot.

While I was enjoying the view of a blank cubicle wall, thinking about the lack of graffiti, my bladder was emptying itself into my combats.
My very, very, light, stone colored combats.

After begrudgingly pulling up my trousers – my very cold –trousers.
(I must have been drifting, for longer than I thought.)
I exited the restroom, worrying now, about missing the flight.

After looking in the mirror, I figured no one would notice –Just so long as long as they looked at me fully straight on or fully from behind, and not too closely of course. An inspection past a casual glance, and the game was up...

Nice, dry, stone colored fronts. Cold, wet , darker patch, on the rear. Lovely.

Oh, and a nice little squelching in one of my boots.
Let's not forget that.
(I never left my boots loosely tied, and 'open' after that)

It was truly, truly, utterly - miserable.
And just to add to the misery - I was being called, by name, on the speakers, to get to my gate, pretty damn pronto!
I was seriously late!
fan- fuckin -tastic
No time to go back, and buy some more trousers. ......Some lovely dry, warm, comfortable, trousers..

Even better – I would have a welcoming committee to greet me at the gates, all eyes on me.
With a bit of luck, I would be so late, all the passengers will be watching me too, waiting for the straggler. All eyes on me.
Fan-fuckin'-tastic.

All I needed now was to be seated at the back of the plane, to ensure maximum views from everybody.
I checked for my aisle number.
Yep – of course - 4 aisles from the rear.

And lets not forget the paranoid, zombified state I was in from 2 days of abusing my body, and depriving myself of any real sleep.

I was a little bit, stressed, I admit it.....and I didn't even have a cigarette on me.

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

.
As quickly as my now chafing groin would allow, I trundled to the gate.
I think I probably resembled an ape off 'planet of the apes,' movie , in my gait...

No one said anything. Everybody knew, I'm pretty sure. No, I was very sure.

It was a long, long walk down the plane. And yes , everyone was waiting just for me. Just...perfect.
I was thoroughly miserable.
Oh well, its done now, I'm sat down, soon be asleep, soon be another day....

Pee, even fresh pee, isn't good on clothing in a confined space.
You are always very sensitive to other peoples pee aroma....
Planes are confined spaces.

It was a very full plane....

It was a direct flight from LA to London.. It was double digit hours, in the air.

I never met any new friends on that flight, strange.

Cheers

PW