The Authentic Life: Air Travel

“There’s nothing to see in here folks, nothing to see.” Sam is holding up my jacket stretched wide between his arms as if it were a curtain. I am on one side and every other man who walks through the bathroom door is on the other. His statement produces the opposite effect of its intention. Everyone who enters the restroom is acutely interested in what, exactly, is on the other side of that jacket. At one point I overhear a curious onlooker peeking over the jacket say “What, does he have a vagina?”

“Dammit, Sam” I whisper to myself. He told me this bathroom was private and refurbished. But it is an open bank of urinals with no partitions and immediately within full view to the entire bar when the door swings open.

“William, I’m serious, take a look at the bathroom. You’re not going to believe how beautiful it is.” That is what Sam said when we first entered the bar. If Sam knows anything about me, it is that I am as gullible as my bladder is shy. I walked into the restroom expecting the best but seeing the worst. The look of disgust on my face as I turn back around and walk out of the bathroom has Sam laughing so hard that he has to catch his breath.

Still laughing Sam says, “Ok, come on you pussy, let’s go in and I’ll cover for ya’.” Surprisingly, this statement makes sense to me. Surprising because I am again believing the friend that told me the “Eagle Bar” bathroom is the Taj Mahal of bathrooms. Not surprising because two gin and tonics ago my bladder reached capacity.

So I find myself standing in the spotlight like an actor trying to remember his lines backstage before the curtains are lifted. The urinal is my audience. Relieved, I remember my line.

I have always hated public restrooms. Why do women get complete privacy while men have to stand side by side while they expose themselves? This is why women go in groups. I think they sometimes go to the restroom and never do anything in their three foot by four foot room of privacy but chat and paint their nails, because they can. They are gloating.

I love it when bars or restaurants have single occupancy restrooms. The only time that a single occupancy bathroom does not work is on airplanes. Airlines are under the impression that paper is a suitable substance for bathroom walls and two feet by two feet is ample space to pull your pants down. If that were not intimidating enough the flight attendant is always sitting on the other side of the folding cardboard door listening intently for any embarrassing sounds. Would it kill her to tell the eighty year old man jiggling the damn bathroom handle that the red light above his withered grey head means that someone is in the bathroom closet concentrating?

On a recent flight home from San Francisco to Boston, my husband Paul was in the restroom before the plane took off. A woman in her fifties prepared to sit in the middle seat between me and Paul. “Oh, I am travelling with my husband, would you like my window seat?” I say. “I’d prefer the aisle seat.” She says and immediately plops her presumptive ass down in the aisle seat. I hate her. But then I exact my revenge. I will drink more water and soda than my bladder can handle and then trouble her each time I need to get up. I am writing this as she sits next to me. She is probably nosy too. Oh well, one more bottle of water down and now one more trip to the bathroom closet.

The first rule of air travel is: you do not talk about air travel. The second rule of air travel is: you do not talk about air travel. These rules are not written; they simply exist and are subject to change at any moment. I used to travel in a cocoon of ignorance, blindly following the herd, but recent trips have enlightened me and I am willing to share these rules with you if you remember rule number one.

Third rule of air travel: Do not try to do anything by phone. If you must change a reservation, never believe the Indian ticketing agent. Bairavi has been coached on how best to annoy you by mispronouncing your name, and calling you Ma’am even if you sound like Barry White and your name is John. If you ask about any other flights, she will tell you it is sold out. She does not understand English. Bypass this and fly standby by checking in at the airport.

Fourth rule of air travel: Flirt shamelessly with the counter ticketing agent. This one takes skill as you must determine if he or she will be flattered or repulsed by you. When you ask if you can be put on the standby list he will tell you that you must do this at the gate. This is a warning! You have not flattered him enough and therefore he has no interest in you. Flirt more and with luck, you will be told that you are number one on the standby list.

Fifth rule of air travel: You will always be standing behind the unseasoned traveller in the security line. Learn to spot these mouth breathing time sinks by looking for some common traits: a bewildered look, drinking from a two liter bottle of soda, or putting their luggage down and forgetting to pick it up. You cannot avoid it, but you can be prepared to skirt around them when they are surprised that they need to show ID.

Sixth rule of air travel: The counter ticketing agent is a liar. Proceed to the gate and ask the gate agent if you are on the standby list. She will tell you that you are the last person on the standby list. If you tell her you thought you were first, you may notice the airline personnel aggressive gesture: hand on hip, one eyebrow raised and lips pursed. Caution!: When you see this gesture, assume the submissive role by lowering your head and backing away slowly. Stand close to the gate so that you are in their line of sight and are not forgotten but do not look them directly in the eye.

Seventh rule of air travel: Do not joke about allergies with the flight attendant. On the rare occasion that a bag of eight peanuts are offered to you, the flight attendant will invariably be back in 45 seconds to snatch the bag of peanuts out of your hand and announce that there is an “allergy” on board. Apparently, allergies have achieved consciousness and no longer need human hosts. If you are offered pretzels instead, DO NOT joke that you are allergic to pretzels. You will immediately see the aggressive gesture described in the sixth rule. Assume the submissive role or you may see the aggressive gesture elevate to a finger wagging and neck roll.

The final rule of air travel: Your life is ending one minute at a time and if you have someone that you cherish, every tick of the clock that you save by following the air travel rules is another second closer to home. Learn them. Follow them. Love them.