One thing I like when making airline reservations online, is picking my seat. Airplane seat, that is. I’ve heard that the safest seat in an airplane is toward the back. Apparently, more people survive crashes who sit toward the back, than those who sit toward the front.
Just the same, I don’t choose seats in the back. And it’s all because of my cousin Barney’s bathroom break.
Barney is a big man. In fact he’s so big, the United Nations blamed him for causing a famine. He’s so big, when he goes to the beach he changes the tidal calendar. He’s so big, he holds his pants up with an asteroid belt.
And all kidding aside, my cousin Barney is so big, he once got stuck in an airport. That’s because the airline wouldn’t let him aboard until he paid for two seats, to accommodate for his doublewide butt. After two days of living in the airport he finally relented, paid the double-fare, and flew anyway. Walking would have been impractical, and U-Haul was out of trucks. And he needed to get home quickly because he had to use the toilet. He didn’t like the idea of using a public restroom to do number two.
The airliner managed to safely leave the ground with Barney onboard. But shortly after it reached altitude on this transcontinental flight, a powerful sensation struck my cousin. His swollen bowels could not take it anymore. He realized he had to go. And fast. So in spite of his best efforts to hold it in until he arrived home, he would have to use a public restroom.
A clamant urge made him suddenly arise from his two seats and quickly squeeze his way down the aisle toward the restrooms in the rear. He made it just in time. And to his sweet relief, one of the restrooms was unoccupied. He frantically flung the door open and stepped toward the precious tiny toilet.
But something held him back. It was the doorway. The doorways of restrooms on commercial jetliners are not designed with people the size of Barney in mind. It’s important to save space when designing jetliners, you see. Thus, you get no legroom. And the restroom doorways afford no ass room.
Barney struggled valiantly to gain entry into the tiny cubicle. He pushed, heaved, sighed, and moaned, all the while feeling the pressure in his bowels grow exponentially stronger, like Mount St. Helens ready to violently erupt.
Time ran out and Barney still wasn’t in. But in a split-second, the adrenaline and terror pumping through his desperate brain inspired him with an idea. There in the aisle between the restrooms, Barney twisted his big body around and lowered his trousers. He planted his bare butt against the open doorway and released the fury of his internal volcano all over the restroom walls and floor.
This is a true story. And I like to remember it whenever I choose an airplane seat. I know it’s safer toward the rear, in event of a crash, but I choose the front. I’d rather die than go through what those passengers sitting by the restrooms endured, smelling the soup wafting from the restroom used by my cousin Barney.
Too bad my cousin couldn’t be assisted by a restroom attendant, who might have been able to wedge him through the door. Some airline restrooms offer assistance to passengers, as you can see in this SNL sketch, with Flip Wilson: