I went to Boston this weekend and was faced with a common traveling dilemma. Not wanting to check any baggage (emotional or otherwise), at the airport I had on my person at all times my usual items of import for a weekend trip:

  • my backpack (containing my laptop and important work-related materials, like comic books)
  • my duffle bag (containing clothes and a baggie of 3-oz containers of various liquids and gels that I do not need but bring anyway because they are very cute in their child-size packages and snuggled all together in their baggie blanket)
  • my self-check-in boarding pass, printed on the finest quality tissue paper and already crumpled into a small, incomprehensible mass at the bottom of my pocket

The boarding pass is inconsequential to my promised dilemma, but the backpack and duffel bag are not. Both of these items are rather bulky and heavy, and the great challenge begins when I enter the restroom. Anyone who has ever entered a men’s public restroom knows that the floor, particularly around the urinals, is almost certain to be covered with a delightful assortment of urine splatterings. This normally makes walking around the restroom a rather disgusting affair, but at the airport some of this aversiveness is tempered by the realization that some of that urine literally traveled thousands of miles to be there. It is almost like an Olympics of piss, really, and who can get mad at that? At any rate, the dilemma I face in the aiport bathroom is this: my two bags are too heavy and bulky to allow me to fit in the urinal space comfortably (particularly in crowded bathrooms or ones with those damn privacy walls that prevent men from clearly checking out the competition) and make me very topheavy and likely to tip over mid-stream, but if I put one or both bags on the floor they are likely to float away in a river of gold. One option is to find a dry patch of floor further away from the urinals, but then I am threatening the security of our great nation by not being within reach of my baggage at all times. What is a heavily bagged, full-bladdered, hygiene-concerned, security-seeking boy to do?

6 thoughts on “Aiport Urinatin’”

  1. Hmm…
    Well, I usually use a stall. There’s one I’ve been in at Reagan Airport on several trips to DC that has “Free Cowboy Hats!” scrawled on the seat-cover dispenser in Sharpie.

    Barring that, I like to put them on the changing table or ADA-compliant counter that they have when you come in. Then, I just take my whiz.

    I figure that as long as I am pissing after checking into security, then no one on that side of the security barrier should have anything that would be harmful to national security should they put it in my bags.

    Now, of course, it would definitely be harmful to have your comics or computer (in that order) stolen from your bag, so there is still that angle.

    For that, I just ready my best kung-fu-kicking style in case I see movement with the corner of my eye. In slow motion, like in a kung-fu movie, it would show me swinging swiftly around, dick a-dangling, still pissing, and kicking some 12-year-old punk in the head.

    The guy that gets the worst of this situation, though, is the blameless man standing at the urinal next to mine. That flight to Caracas is really going to suck for him now.

  2. Oh yeah
    And speaking of pissing on people — remember that time we got drunk in the early afternoon and decided to see a movie? We snuck a couple six-packs of Zima (we thought it would be less conspicuous) into Patch Adams.

    Afterward, I accidentally pissed on the guy in the urinal next to mine when I turned to say something my drunk mind thought was funny.

    Ah. Good times. 🙂

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