Someone’s Got A Mean Case Of The Mondays
“I guess it’s just one of those days. Welp, looks like it’s going to be one of those days. He must be having one of THOSE days. THOSE DAYS.”
I’d like to say I had one of those days, but it seems days like that come on rather unexpectedly. They’re stumbled upon. Begrudgingly discovered.
In that sense, no, I wouldn’t say I had a day like that. I knew exactly where the day could have been headed, and it didn’t surprise me. Keep in mind, it was no big psychic feat. I had to wake up at 3 AM to catch a 640 flight. Seems pretty cut and dry. Arriving two-and-a-half hours early seems easy enough, right? Okay, wise guy, if it seems so easy add traveler’s diarrhea to the mix. To give you a brief rundown, you wake up with light stomach pain. You’re recovering from it, so you don’t want to eat anything and upset your stomach for the flight(s). Fair enough. But when you’re at the airport and have been standing in line for five hours waiting to check-in, you bet your ass those hunger pangs are going to start creeping up on you.
Oh, that’s right. You read that correctly. I don’t know if it’s because they were writing out each ticket by hand or they just REALLY wanted to keep people in Peru, but I, among many others, was about two hours late leaving the airport. My connection in Panama City was only 90 minutes. That’s some pretty disappointing math right there. Apparently, this news was also disappointing to a few others as a smaller, older woman started a “TENEMOS SOLUCION” chant that lingered for a solid minute with the help of about 30-40 other people. I didn’t voice my complaints, but my stomach had plenty to say.
I would squat down and balance holding my bag to feel a little bit better. If you want to see how ridiculous that looks, I’m sure you can find that image somewhere on Peruvian Twitter under “Copa Airlines” and “goofy gringo shit the bed.”
After the lady who started the chant LITERALLY passed out as she was yelling at the clerks(I’m not kidding. They put her in a wheelchair and fanned her face as they escorted her outside) we were finally given our tickets and instructed to hurry. I felt bad for the protest leader as I half-sprinted to my gate. The last of us made it and we were on our way to Panama City.
I couldn’t sleep a wink on the 3-hour flight because I apparently suck at sleeping on planes. All of you who can have no idea how lucky you are. On the bright side, I was able to watch an hour of soundless, subtitleless Artificial Intelligence. I don’t need sound to know Jude Law and Haley Joel Osment made great robots in that one!
We land and, shocker, I missed my connecting flight to Sao Paulo. After 30 minutes, they set me up with a $10 meal voucher and a flight pushed back three-and-a-half hours. Whatever, now my 12-hour layover in Sao Paulo is an 8+ hour layover. Feeling like a new man ready to get some partially paid for food(not complaining by the way, super sweet of them) I opt for Panamanian Quizno’s. I spend 10 minutes eating a sandwich that looked promising and another 20 minutes regretting that decision.
I then promptly head over to the toilet and sloppily, slushily, savagely shit my brains out. Now the whole airport knows why I’m holding my gut, which is the same reason they’re holding their noses! Nothing like dropping a mean deuce next to your trusty travel bags! After I check for splashback stains(sorry) I wash up and wait for my plane to Sao Paulo. I wait for one hour and am then am called to board almsot at the exact moment my tumblin starts a-rumblin’ again. Guess I’ll save it for the 3″x 3″ torture bathroom on the plane! When I finally do get to go, I feel rushed because, well, let;s be honest, people sitting by the bathroom know exactly how long you’ve been in there. Nosy assholes…
I pray that the cacophony of crap coming out of me is muffled by twin turbine engines. My bet is that it wasn’t. Now, listen, this next part might be TMI, so if bathroom stuff is too much for you, tune out now and just imagine I was reunited with Scarecrow, Tot, and the Tin Man back in Kansas,
As I mentioned, these bathroom spaces are particularly tight. Wiping becomes a straining thing of surgical precision. Mix that with traveler’s diarrhea and you have a mess on your hands, literally. I lift myself and wipe two from the back(not my preferred method) and then get cocky and attempt one from the front. Now this is my jam. Right down main street and I’m home clear – or so I thought. I dip my hand down with the dexterity of a bomb squad leader, but the hand goes TOO FAR DOWN and a finger nail touches the bowl. That’s right, no man’s land. Luckily, everything in the bathroom is within elbow’s reach, so I grab disinfectant, finish up, and walk out to be blocked by the drink cart. As I wait for them to move back, past my seat, I think to myself “Only 15 hours to go. Please don’t let there be poop on me somewhere.”
Because even though I want to say it’s just one of those days, it’s so much more painfully expected than that. Some say the punch you don’t see is the most dangerous. Others say the devil you know is far batter than the one you don’t. But to that I only have one truth to say: “A shit sandwich is a shit sandwich. Knowing a week in advance that I have to eat it, doesn’t help it go down any easier.”
Here’s to hoping your next flight is much, much better than mine.
This entry was posted in Update
I believe you’d get your ass kicked for saying that on the jobsite, true or not!