Checking your watch for the umpteenth time, you sigh, because you’re on the airplane waiting in line to use the bathroom and you’ve been waiting in line for a very long time. What’s strange is you’re next to go and have been for some time now. What the heck is going on in there?
You probably don’t want to know. What you do know is the passenger who went in there ten minutes ago can’t be doing that, at least not with another person, because they went in there alone. Then again some people join the mile high club while others prefer the solo aviators division.
“Excuse me, Miss,” you say, and when you say this you’re looking at me, and because I see you standing in front of a lavatory door that is occupied, I already know what you’re going to say before you even say it and I’m really, really, wishing you didn’t have to involve me.
“Whoever’s in there has been in there a very long time,” you tell me.
I nod, trying my best to look concerned, and while I’m nodding I’m praying the person who has been in the lavatory for a very long time will finally walk out. Please walk out! When they don’t walk out, I say, “Sometimes it takes some people a little longer than others.” Because it does. I mean it took me two years to even use the thing. For real.
“Can you at least knock on the door to make sure they’re alright?”
I take a deep breath, wondering why you can’t knock on the door yourself, because we both know you don’t really care whether or not they’re alright in there and I’m not the one who needs to use the loo, but I go ahead and do it anyway – knock knock, knocking my knuckles against the hard, cold door, and that’s when I hear a powerful flush.
I smile and state the obvious, “They should be out in a second.”
Yeah, that's me, the one standing in the aisle wearing flammable polyester...