Poo-pooing Pooh

What I loved about flying with “CG” was that we always laughed so hard together. Another thing I loved about her, and still do, is that she is a strong, beautiful woman who takes care of herself. “I gotta look at myself every day!” she has said to me for thirty years. 

Her laughter comes from deep beneath her diaphragm and her smile lights up her face. “CG” flew turnarounds before she retired while I prefer international; but I’d sometimes pick up a trip that she was on just to be near her. 

On one particular rotation we sat in Detroit for something like three and a half hours before returning home to Seattle. We thought we were going to take a nap but that idea faded fast. Instead, I drank coffee and she ate yogurt. Out of the blue, she says to me: “You ever had a pooh story on the plane?” No. Not on the plane. I’m sure you do though. And I’m sure you’re gonna share it with me. 

“I hate going to the bathroom on the planes! I won’t touch the toilet let alone take a pooh in that nasty place. One day, I had to take a pee so I go to the bathroom. I lift the lid and the seat and drop my nylons and panties, and I bend over and squat over the bowl. I’m just finishing up doing my business and I pass a little gas. I finish up and pull my stuff back up, wash my hands and go back to work in the galley. I’m cleaning up the galley and a female passenger opens the bathroom door, goes in and immediately comes back out! ‘I think somebody had an accident in there’ she says to me. I go in and there it is. Between the seat and the lid. I had shot out a turd! (CG is laughing and so am I and she’s showing me with her index finger and thumb the relative length of her projectile). ‘Oh my goodness I said to the woman. I’ll get that cleaned up for you.'” 

Then she tells me another story while we’re still laughing: 

Remember when we had that uniform that had those long shirt tails for the men? (Yes, I do). One morning we get up to start our service but “NJ” said he had to pop into the restroom first. We said we’d start and he could join us on the top side of the cart when he was finished. We start and we’re looking at each other wondering where NJ is. We keep going and when we’re almost finished with the entire service, he comes out of the bathroom all flustered. As CG relayed the story, NJ went into the lavatory to take a quick pooh. He too hated having to that on the plane. He dropped his pants and underwear and takes his pooh, pulls his shirt back to wipe himself and drops the soiled paper into the bowl. A he gets up to flush, all he sees is spent toilet paper clinging to the side of the bowl but no turd. He turns back and feels the weight of it cuddled in the fold of his shirt tail! He spent most of the flight washing his damn shirt! 

I shared a story from my gym’s owner. “HC” is an octogenarian who has been in the fitness business since I was born. One rainy December morning when the Seattle rains poured and the darkness refused to yield he comes up to me: “Steve, I’m gettin’ old, and it sucks. This morning I get up and come to work. I’m heading up California and I feel this wet on my ass! I reach down and think, Aw Christ, did I just shit myself? Is that what the Hell I got to look forward to? Shittin’ myself and not even knowing it? I park the truck and rush into the gym to get some towels to wipe up my shit from the seat before clean myself off. I open the truck door and the light comes on. I see that my damn dog had barfed all over the seat! Thank God it’s just my eye sight that’s failing me. 

“CG” and I had spent 3 ½ laughing and talking shit. It was time to return to our plane. 

Maybe I’ll share my coleslaw story with you soon. That cost us $3,000 in the end. But I sure do love coleslaw.