As I sit here between two strangers on what seems like a never ending flight I realize I have to urinate. With roughly fifty minutes left I am forced to question the strength of my bladder, can I hold it or should I go.
I take in my surroundings; on my right a man is reading and nonchalantly picking at the loose boogies in his nose, to my left a lady reads her Kindle. If I get up, I will disrupt the reading of my row partners. Ten more minutes go by and I realize that my urge has not increased or lessened with the time, a good sign.
Using the bathroom on flights is always a stressful thing for me. I do not know why but I hate doing it. No matter how many times I pee before I get on a plane I always feel like I still need to go. I know that if I do manage the courage to disrupt everyone and go that I will only push out the idea of having to pee but not the urine that should come with it. It is a relief to try but an overall waste.
After almost missing the connecting flight and with all Southwest flights with their policy of first come first serve seating, there were only middle seats left, which is why I am stationed between two strangers. I sat as close to the front of the plane as possible for a quick exit and find myself only three rows deep and you bet your ass I am keeping this in mind for the bladder issue. I bet I can get off this bitch in less than five minutes.
Legs are now crossed and there is still almost thirty minutes left. What to do, what to do. In the next fifteen minutes we are going to be told to put our tray tables back up and straighten out seats. Shit, they just said it, guess I've got to hold it. I hate this.
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