That Man on the Airplane

Here in this moment we, you and I, generally speaking and collectively the “we”, find ourselves tuned into this dot on the universe, supposing in part due to our mutual interest in the general oddities and curiosities of this predicament of human existence, and here within this dot you find a story about a man, a man that has been known to find himself in predicament or two, of many sorts and peculiarity, this certainty was not the first peculiarity of this sort for the man, he considers himself to be a reasonably smart man, smarter than most he thought, certainly not the smartest, but also not the dullest knife in the drawer either, he fits right in there, somewhere in the middle, just perfect right in that spot, and it’s in this middle that these predicaments, these happenstances, seem to come forth with a certain regularity for this man.

This story takes place in the Bahamas, and as with many of the interesting travel stories in and around the small island nation, planes are involved, and in this particular case, a local airline, and if the story is meant to be overwhelmingly interesting, Southern Airways just about has to be involved, Southern Scareways as they are also known, and rightfully so, this man has some experience with them, but in full transparency, the other options, such as Bahamas Air is really only marginally better, there was that one Bahamas Air plane where they had a nail serving duty as the pin for the door hinge, no shit! People had to complain to get it fixed… All you can really say is, “it’s the Bahamas”, it’s all simply part of what makes it mysterious, adventurous, and magical.

Having just arrived on his flight from North Carolina to New Providence, the man made it through customs and immigrations, with a pile of heavy gear in tow, everything from fishing rods to photography equipment, there was some explaining to do when the man stated his intent on an 8 week stay, the immigration officer asked him for the address where he would be staying, and in all likelihood knowing full well that such things don’t exist on the island the man just explained he was headed too, houses in the out islands have names, sort of the Caribbean way, there are no postal addresses, no numbers, its a complicated but yet simple thing, one of the quirks of island life, those little things that make it a great life, names such as Blue Landing, Bahamian Moon, House of Blues, after pulling out a map, and pointing out the location of the house where the man would lay his head the next 45 nights, the immigration officer gestured the man along, after rechecking luggage, and going back through security, the man thought a cold beer was in order, “shit, we are in the Bahamas, fishing gear in hand, time to relax”, so the man finds a stool at the bar right near the small plane departure area, this is prime Southern Scareway territory, their boarding gate is right there, “they can’t get past me here” he mutters to himself. The prior January, the man had been left by previously mentioned airline, they have a reputation for unorthodox boarding practices, its more like a walk by, “hey we are boarding this flight”, they snuck by him somehow the year before, the man intended to be be ready this time around.

Eventually, the man and three others collect behind the female boarding agent, with the walk by, “hey we are boarding the Southern Airways flight to Long Island”, and follow her out onto the tarmac to board the small single engine plane, the man can’t tell you what kind, because the man doesn’t know shit about planes, but it's small and certainty an older plane, a couple of ground crew are busy loading the man’s duffels of gear, a slender, fit man with salt and pepper hair climbed into the front copilot seat, leaving the man with an older couple the back of the plane, the old man was was dressed to the nines in sweet vintage wool suit, rich chocolatey brown in color, and heavy, mind you its at least 90 degrees in this plane sitting on the tarmac at Lynden Pindling International Airport, both of them seemed spry for their years, both carrying fly rod tubes, so the man knew they where his sort of people, even at this point in life, they are coming to chase bonefish on the endless miles of saltwater flats, the man just smiles and makes some small talk, just the normal just a hello, you know, exchanging some fishing banter, “what flies did you bring with you?" that sort of thing, the lady, his wife, climbs into the very back seat of the plane, the very back row, the man motions the the older gentleman to climb in first, into the middle row, then the man climbed in behind him, and shutting the door behind them all is the sweet but serious boarding agent, a Bahamian woman who called together this merry band of brothers and sister at the gate. The pilot is a younger Bahamian man, a formidable looking fella, strong, the man felt a sense of confidence and poise from this man, which is what the man wants to feel about his pilot in a plane of this sort, this is going to be a great flight he thought to himself. At which point, something occurs too this man, while he did go to the bathroom in the not so distant past, he also had a couple of Kalik’s at the bar waiting to board this aluminum can with no toilet, this man might need to pee again, “nothing I can do about it now”, he thinks, as the engine fires up, and the prop begins to spin, the plane is now off across the tarmac, the pilot is talking to air traffic control over his headset, as he eases his way to the runway, into a slow roll, then a quick turn, before straightening out and going throttle down for take off, up and over the bluest of water, stuff of dreams.

It doesn’t take long, the man knows, this is going to be interesting, he takes notice that the lady behind him quickly fell asleep with a heavy jacket on, and the gentleman in was in his heavy brown suit, the man on the other hand is in flip flops, sunglasses, earbuds, board shorts and a t-shirt, even with the air conditioning, he is sweating, “it is hot up here” the man is thinking to himself, sweat beads ups and rolls down the small of his back, right down the man’s ass crack it goes, “damn it is warm” he thinks, “how are they in jackets?”, he wonders, a dip in the ocean sounds pretty great right now, “probably an hour flight from here, give or take” he thinks, “we might be 20 minutes in”, he can feel it building though, the pressure, he tries to think about something else, a distraction, he focuses his attention out the blurry window, tinted with sun protection film, but the man can see everything, he focuses on the water and the islands, the hundreds of little cays that make up this little island nation, beautiful as anything his eyes has ever seen, magical places, “wish I had a sailboat so I could visit these little uninhabited islands, shit this isn’t working”, he thinks, so the man taps the pilot on the arm, he pulls is headset off to the side, “how long until Long Island”, the man asks, “45 minutes”, “I have to piss“ “be on the ground in 45 minutes, “Thanks”, well this is going to be a problem the man thinks, never before had he encountered such a dilemma, a new sort of thing, “I will just have to hold it”, he thinks to himself, he decides that maybe he should focus on the instrument panel for awhile, an interesting patchwork of all sorts of gauges, doodads and doohickeys, “good thing I am not flying this thing, it looks complicated”, he thinks, none of this really matters, there is no getting around it, he can’t distract himself out of this one, the pain is intense now, he knows that something has to give, time to consider options.

He begins to wonder, “Is there a way to pee out of this plane?”, sounds like really bad idea, for all the reasons he knows but even more so, those he doesn’t know about, “what if I peed on the floor he wonders, nope too messy, the splatter would surely hit someone”, “maybe just pee right here as I sit, all over myself and the seat”, at least it would be discreet he thinks, the man knows without a doubt he is not going to make it, pissing himself right there in that seat seems like a real probable outcome, this was going to happen, the pain was beyond tolerable at this point, “think, think, think”. The man taps the pilot on the arm again, he moves the headset off his right ear so he can hear what the man was saying, “ I am not going to make it”, says the man, the pilots looks around for a minute, as if searching for something, then it hits him, the light bulb goes on, the man has an idea, a brilliant idea, the solution to his dilemma, his Hydroflask bottle, a key piece of kit for any adventurer, a person needs to stay hydrated, so the man reaches for it, down in the bottom of his pack, its heavy, he opens it to find it nearly full, in less time than it actually took to decide to decide, he knows the only option was to drink this, put it right on top, and then fill’er back up, so that is what the man did, powered it down with just a couple breaks in between to breathe, “I better check with the old man” he thinks as he finished off the water, the woman was still fast asleep, “thank goodness for that”, he turns to his left to check with he old man, a couple gestures, a few words exchanged, muted by the sound of the engine and air rushing past, more lipped than spoken, and the old man gives him the thumbs up, salt and pepper in the front seat turns back and also gives the man a right on with a smile, right there, right in that moment, the man just decides there is no other choice, he would piss right there a mere foot or two from each of the other four people aboard this tiny plane, he unbuttons his shorts and puts one leg up under his butt, to prop himself on an angle of sorts, goes up on the other knee and turns to his right, angling out whatever privacy he could, checks to make sure the lady is still sleeping, “still out like light”, relief is coming, coming soon, and just like that a rush of complete and total relief, the most divine of feelings, ecstasy, all the pressure releases in an experience bordering orgasmic, “I sure hope this bottle is big enough”, but at this point who really cares, it’s all coming out, the man finishes up with a shiver that raises goosebumps over his entire body, then replaces the lid on his water bottle, nearly full once again..

The man’s pee dilemma now resolved, his mind wonders back to more pleasant thoughts, he is feeling much better and ready bask in sunny sky’s, take endless morning walks down empty white sand beaches, float aimlessly in beautiful blue water, in between wasting days away chasing bonefish and permit on picturesque saltwater flats, well, at least after he empties and washes his water bottle and refills it with some fresh. He may not be the smartest man, he may get himself into some silly scenarios, a certainty to which can be relied upon, thank goodness for that, where the magic of this earthly existence happens, the stuff a child might call play, what a ride.