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Battle of the Bladders

By on February 28, 2014 in Italia! with No Comments

toiletOkay, so I’m flying at 3200 feet at almost 600 MPH somewhere between Glasgow and Iceland over the North Atlantic and I suddenly realize that I’m in a battle of the bladders with the woman sitting next to me. She is an Italian woman who I would guess to be somewhere in her 70s and next to her is another Italian woman who appears to be younger, maybe her daughter. I decided earlier to try to time my bathroom breaks with theirs so as not to hassle them with having to get up and make way for me a separate time. I’m just that nice of a guy.

We’ve been flying for over 2 hours now and I just finished the dinner platter along with a second glass of wine. I love Lufthansa; they have decent food and wine with refills. I think that this is what has given Mamma Mia the advantage over me. I thought that I had her a bit earlier when she accepted the refill to her coffee.

So now it’s turned into a waiting game. C’mon…a 70 year old woman? I would think that her bladder would be throwing up the white flag way before mine. I’m hoping that she acquiesces when the flight attendants take away her serving tray, which should be soon.

I didn’t go to the bathroom before boarding the flight at Frankfurt because there was a long line. Frankfurt may be an ultra-modern airport but they are sorely lacking in urinals. OK…they are taking the trays away now. This should break up the ice jam. Oh God! I think that she is silently mocking me. The flight attendant just gave her a full glass of water!

We are now about even with Iceland – Land of Bijork. Mamma Mia is in-human. I must be strong. Uh oh, the woman in front of me just put her seat back forcing me to lean back and adding a bit more tension on my overextended bladder.

YES! I momentarily think that I may be triumphant. Mamma just put her tray holder up. Oh no! Great Mother of God! She’s getting out her reading glasses and a book! She’s toying with me and must know that I can’t hold out for much longer. She nonchalantly opens the book, (fucking Danielle Steele!), and she’s just starting it. That’s it! I can’t play this game of chicken anymore so I, “scusa me”, and get them both up so I can finally go. Tasting the bitterness of defeat, I gingerly amble up the isle to the toilet realizing that I had cut it WAY too close. Mercifully, there wasn’t a long wait and Ahhhhhh….finally.

And, as if to spike the ball, I run face-to-face with Mamma Mia waiting patiently outside the restroom door when I emerge, with an almost imperceptible smile on her face.

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