Never Pass Up the Opportunity: A painful lesson at Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport

 “I told you we should’ve left earlier. Take a look at that line at security.”

“Chuck, you’re right. We need to step on it.”

“I should make a pit stop now. Do you remember where we parked the car?”

“Duh, I even have a pic on my phone. This is where we parked at the Buckhead MARTA station and rode the train. Have a look. Plus, I have an app for finding it when we get back. Yikes, even the pre-check line is backed up.”

“I hate flying anymore. It wasn’t that much fun before the pandemic. Now we have to wear a damn mask. And so much for any attempt at social distancing. At least our line seems to be moving now”

“What’s the matter with you, Chuck? You’re acting jumpy, hopping from foot to foot like that.”

“I gotta tell you, Mike, I can’t help it. Call it what you want, micturate, pee, wee-wee, pass water, piss. My micturition reflex has triggered a strong need to urinate.

“Wow, you’re sure good with words. Damn, you should’ve stopped for a piss before you got in line.”

“What? I knew I should’ve made a pit stop, but the damn TSA security lines bothered me more. Hold it, Mike, I have a call from Marsha, my personal assistant. Check for our boarding announcement, please.”

“It’s going to be tight, getting to the gate on time. Call me when you have that information, Marsha.”

“Is that a new watch, Chuck?”

“It is, Mike. It’s my new atomic watch, a Redcherry G8, top-of-the-line model 43Z1. I can keep everything synced using my all-purpose, combination phone/organizer/mini-laptop. I’m also wearing one of the accessories, Bluetooth speakers.”

“You wear yours like a badge of office, Chuck. Those earpieces look like an old-fashioned pipe cleaner. You wear them with such insouciance.”

“I’ve had complete strangers commenting. They know they’re looking at someone important. Look, Mike, I was born into this wireless world. I can tap the screen on my watch, and a voice just told me it will take us eleven minutes, thirty-one seconds to clear security. Crap, Marsha—”

“What?”

“That was Marsha.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Marsha, I want you to find out what cheap bean counter booked me on coach and a flight leaving from the D concourse? I want you to call accounting—”

“Hurry, Mike. That security woman is waving us through. It’s about time. Keep up with me. I’m going to run down the escalator. We have to push through that crowd waiting for the Plane Train. We have to get to concourse D, and I need time to . . . find a toilet.”

“Chuck, I’m trying as hard as I can. My laptop case is banging into my hip. It’s my new hip. I’m still getting used to the replacement, even after four weeks.”

“Damn, look for a toilet.”

“Chuck, take it easy. I know you have to pee, but you just shoved an elderly woman to the side.”

“How rude. I’ve never been treated like that. I’m going to report both of you.”

“Look, lady, I don’t have to explain anything to you, and you should watch that cane, lady. Ten more minutes to our gate, Mike. Hold my briefcase. I have to use the men’s room.

“Hey, boss, sorry.”

“Who are you? Why are you blocking the door?”

“I’m in charge of cleaning. That sign means the room is closed for cleaning.”

“Don’t you dare smirk like that. Look at the porter, Mike. He thinks he looks dignified, wearing a bow-tie. His smirk’s bordering on a sneer, pointing to the ‘closed’ sign.”

“You’re right, Chuck, he’s standing there just whistling.

“Mike, the man’s riffing to what—? It’s Miles Davis, ‘Kind of Blue.’ “Look, pal, I’ve got a flight…in…five minutes, and I just have to. My kidney is crying out to me. Surely, you can let me use the room while you clean?”

“I’ve been doing this for twenty-seven years now, and I am finally retiring. In fact, this is my last day.”

“Cripes, why did I have to have that extra-large coffee. Hey, boy—”

“Who you calling boy?”

“I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry. I’m not an unreasonable man, really. I’m more likely to be described as self-absorbed, maybe. But none of that matters now. I’m in full-blown anguish. All that I can think of is taking aim at a porcelain stall.”

“Ain’t getting past me.”

“Mike, you rushed the old man like a fullback. You lunged, pushing him to the wall like you did to that lady.

‘I ain’t gonna fall. I’m gonna be off duty soon…another hour to go…a warm bed waiting…”

“I’m past. Oh my god, Mike, yes. I’m feeling the love, whoa.”

“Look out, Chuck. The floor is still soapy.”

 “Shit.”

“That was the last thing Chuck said, officer. The knock to his head left a bump, but it’s more a blow to his pride. Chuck’s feet went one direction, his arms in another. His head bounced off the soapy tile like a basketball. Then I saw that wetness gently spreading over his crotch. I’m sure he’s embarrassed at pissing himself.”

“He’s unconscious, sir.”

“Is he breathing, officer?”

“Back up, sir. I need to use my radio. Officer needs assistance in men’s room three, Concourse D. Does anyone know CPR?”

“I don’t think we need CPR. He’s breathing, officer Williams. Where’s Tom? Wasn’t he cleaning the room?”

“I’m here, boss. I was just trying to stay out of the way.

“Tom. I hear you retire today. I’ll miss your whistling Miles Davis.”

“What happened, Mike?”

“I’m glad you're awake after that fall. Well, Chuck, you had a fall. They’re announcing a final boarding call for flight 3140. I guess we’re not going to make it on time.” 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“We have to take you out like this, sir.”

“I hope it doesn’t sound like I’m complaining, but certainly there’s something in your EMT manual that can let me walk out.”

“It’s a medical decision, and the airport has rules as well, sir. You never know when it comes to head injuries, correct Sarah?”

“I always wondered about this room, Bryan. This is my first visit to a men’s room.”

“Stop looking around, Sarah. Ain’t nothing to see. Help me get this guy—”

“Will somebody please help me get the earpiece back into my ear. I have to call—”

“Lay still, man. We’ve covered your pants with a blanket. No one will see you’ve pissed yourself.”

“Do the lights have to be that bright, and I hear someone whistling. I think I hear someone riffing on Miles Davis. Damn, I truly detest that. Is anyone listening?”

“Try and relax, sir. It will help. We’re heading to the elevator now.”

“What are you smiling about, old lady, nodding and smiling that fake pleasant grin. And take that tap, tap, tapping cane and—”

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