Mile High Shite
I just returned from Taiwan via San Francisco - I was on American for the San Francisco to St.Louis leg, which is usually a good option as I have high status with them (based on all the money I've been giving them). If I fly anyone else I'm at the bottom of the totem pole, an insignificant piece of self-loading freight, and consequently can expect to be treated only marginally better than the crated dogs that they put in the hold. On this occasion I was flying business class but in spite of aforementioned status American saw fit to give me the very worst seat in business class on the extremely aged 757 they were using. It was seat 6E - last aisle seat on the right, exactly opposite the toilet at the front of coach class. This meant that I was subjected to an endless stream of people opening and closing the door, and lurking by my seat; not only this, but I was treated to the delightful smell of industrial disinfectant and the sound of a high intensity vacuum every time the door opened, plus repeated flushing noises.
I might have hoped to sleep through the ordeal but if you've ever flown the 757 you'll remember that the seat backs are perfectly flat and recline a miserable two degrees from the vertical - it's impossible to get comfortable, and if you sleep for a couple of minutes your neck locks up. So I was forced to watch the movie, which was a) crap, and b) one of the ones I'd already watched between Taiwan and San Francisco to pass the thirteen hours of that flight.
It doesn't have to be this way. On the way over I flew an EVA Airlines 777 and the toilets were both plentiful and spacious, and did not smell like a chemical shitter in a campsite. Not only could you have joined the mile-high club with ease but it would clearly have been possible to carry off a mile-high threesome, an achievement that would get you in the Sex Hall of Fame. Unfortunately such an opportunity did not present itself and I was relegated to using the facility for its designated purpose.
When you fly to Asia there's a lot of time to fill and I, for one, tend to fill it by eating. I ate breakfast and a mid-morning snack. I had lunch at the airport in case they didn't feed us on the plane to LA, but then they fed us on the plane so I ate that as well. In LA I sat in the lounge with nothing to do but eat snacks. Once on board to Taiwan I had more snacks and a full meal, followed by cheeses and dessert. There was a mid-flight snack and another full meal before landing. We landed around 9:45pm local time, which was 8:45am back home, so not surprisingly my digestive tract decided about an hour before landing that now would be the appropriate time for me to lose some weight.
There's no delicate way to put this - it was a substantial transaction resulting in a deposit that rested in the bottom of the bowl rather like a small brown cat, curled up asleep. I flushed, announcing to anyone waiting outside that my departure was imminent, but on lifting the seat (perhaps not trusting in the power of the flush) I was appalled to discover most of the "cat" was still there. I flushed again, with little change. A third flush made no difference. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't stay in there forever, and it's not as though they provide a brush with which to sort it out. I was sure there would be people waiting outside (we were close to landing) and they all would have heard multiple flushes. They were probably already in fear of what they would encounter. I did the only thing a gentleman could do - I lowered the seat to hide it and walked out with my head held high. I was only surprised by the absence of an audible scream from the young woman who went in next.
Needless to say I was mindful of this when I was assigned seat 6E. Maybe this was Karma - my cosmic payback for the giant load on the outbound flight. It's not like it was my fault though - what could any reasonable person have done differently? I'm tempted to direct the question to one of those etiquette advice columns. "Dear Abby. I took a monstrous shit in an airplane toilet and it wouldn't flush away. Decent human beings were queueing outside and I needed to vacate. What should I have done?" Anyone whose answer involves "always take the free toothbrush in there with you, just in case" should check in for treatment immediately.
Copyright 2007 Edward Bison
I might have hoped to sleep through the ordeal but if you've ever flown the 757 you'll remember that the seat backs are perfectly flat and recline a miserable two degrees from the vertical - it's impossible to get comfortable, and if you sleep for a couple of minutes your neck locks up. So I was forced to watch the movie, which was a) crap, and b) one of the ones I'd already watched between Taiwan and San Francisco to pass the thirteen hours of that flight.
It doesn't have to be this way. On the way over I flew an EVA Airlines 777 and the toilets were both plentiful and spacious, and did not smell like a chemical shitter in a campsite. Not only could you have joined the mile-high club with ease but it would clearly have been possible to carry off a mile-high threesome, an achievement that would get you in the Sex Hall of Fame. Unfortunately such an opportunity did not present itself and I was relegated to using the facility for its designated purpose.
When you fly to Asia there's a lot of time to fill and I, for one, tend to fill it by eating. I ate breakfast and a mid-morning snack. I had lunch at the airport in case they didn't feed us on the plane to LA, but then they fed us on the plane so I ate that as well. In LA I sat in the lounge with nothing to do but eat snacks. Once on board to Taiwan I had more snacks and a full meal, followed by cheeses and dessert. There was a mid-flight snack and another full meal before landing. We landed around 9:45pm local time, which was 8:45am back home, so not surprisingly my digestive tract decided about an hour before landing that now would be the appropriate time for me to lose some weight.
There's no delicate way to put this - it was a substantial transaction resulting in a deposit that rested in the bottom of the bowl rather like a small brown cat, curled up asleep. I flushed, announcing to anyone waiting outside that my departure was imminent, but on lifting the seat (perhaps not trusting in the power of the flush) I was appalled to discover most of the "cat" was still there. I flushed again, with little change. A third flush made no difference. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't stay in there forever, and it's not as though they provide a brush with which to sort it out. I was sure there would be people waiting outside (we were close to landing) and they all would have heard multiple flushes. They were probably already in fear of what they would encounter. I did the only thing a gentleman could do - I lowered the seat to hide it and walked out with my head held high. I was only surprised by the absence of an audible scream from the young woman who went in next.
Needless to say I was mindful of this when I was assigned seat 6E. Maybe this was Karma - my cosmic payback for the giant load on the outbound flight. It's not like it was my fault though - what could any reasonable person have done differently? I'm tempted to direct the question to one of those etiquette advice columns. "Dear Abby. I took a monstrous shit in an airplane toilet and it wouldn't flush away. Decent human beings were queueing outside and I needed to vacate. What should I have done?" Anyone whose answer involves "always take the free toothbrush in there with you, just in case" should check in for treatment immediately.
Copyright 2007 Edward Bison
posted by Mr Bison at
6:47 PM
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