Pissed off!

 

I drink a lot of water. I keep on sipping water every now and then. So, one of the early morning flights to Bombay from Madras was when I did the usual, dumping in a couple of glasses of water. The taxi ride was smooth till a km or so to the airport. Then it took close to ten-twelve minutes to cover the remaining distance to the airport.

My bladder was full, due to the water pumped inside in the morning. It was dying to be pumped out. I thought that I could do it in once inside the airport. That's when one of my greatest ordeals of recent times began. A long queue was waiting to get in. It appeared like everyone was leaving Madras that day. And yes, the woefully inadequately staffed CISF personnel took their own sweet time to admit us inside the airport premises. When my turn came, the security person checked my ID card.

"So you are working for the government? Are you also security?"

'Securities And Exchange Board of India,' cried my ID card. I cannot explain at that moment what I did actually.

"Yes," I said.

"Where do you work?"

"Bombay? Oh..Mumbai? You got a good posting."

OK thank you, but can I go now, please? It's bursting at the seams! Inside the airport, I searched for the nearest toilet. I found one around fifty - hundred meters away. Walking those 50-100 metres was like walking a mile. Salute you, all you pregnant women! Just imagine my luck to see the board outside  the men's restroom 'cleaning in progress'. Ah! Still I tried to get in, when the cleaning staff said, 'Hey can't you see the board?'

Yes Bro, my eyes can, but my bladder can't. Why don't you clean the loo while I clean my... No luck. 'OK, let me get the self check in done and use the ones inside the waiting area,' I thought as I only had hand baggage. I went to the self check-in counter. The computer screen was blank. What now? 'Sir we are experiencing connectivity problems. Can you join the normal queue please?' I am also experiencing connectivity problems, dude, but of another kind!

Wait. In the queue, an elderly man behind me asked me, "To which place are you going?" Yes sir, I really don't know where I will. Be going if I don't get access to an urinal in the next few minutes. "What a pleasant morning!" he said. I looked at him. His face looked as if he wouldn't need the loo for the next few hours. Mine was the typical constipated look (pun intended! )

Hold it! Have I started judging people by their faces and when they need to piss next? After ten loooong minutes in Queue, my boarding pass got  issued. While issuing it, the pretty girl at the counter asked me, "Sir the seat is at the emergency exit, would that be fine for you?"

Well I had good inclination of telling her, I am indeed in such a state of emergency now, but... I managed to fake a smile at her... it was more 'yes, yes.. I am tolerating it' grimace than a smile.

Then the great Indian airport security check. It was like getting selected for a job - written test, group discussion, and the final hurdle - the interview! As I said, everyone was trying to get out of Madras that the security check queue resembled a refugee camp. The queue was inching. Slowly. Like a goods train. My turn came and the security check got over (with the usual uhmm...pat down check) after what seemed like eons.

Once over, I rushed to you-know-where. That was when another obstacle appeared. There are rest rooms to your left and right, around 20 odd metres on either side. I chose the one on the right. When I reached there, there was a sofa blocking the entrance. What now? Don't tell me that this was also out of order!!! Just then some attender came and said "Sir, the water supply is an issue here. Please use the other rest room."

Seriously? Why me God? Forty miles, sorry, metres away? OK, I can do this I thought. I didn't have an option. I trundled along as a brisk walk could do damage. My worst fears came true. Since one rest room had to service all the 'loo goers', there was a queue. Yes. Wait. Wait. Wait. There is no better way to learn patience. Once at the urinal, I let my fly open. 

That is when it happened! What? My bladder went shy. Yes! Ah. Come, come, come out! No? Come on? What sort of obstacles can a man go through on a Monday morning? No. It didn't happen. OK. I had to necessarily use the closed toilet. OK. Wait again. I became an instant candidate for nirvana selection for the patience I had to remonstrate on that Monday morning. A full five minutes later, of what seemed an eternity, I got access and.... came out.... relieved, obviously.

Once in Bombay and in the taxi, I peered outside. Do you know the first ad hoarding that I saw? One for adult diapers!!! Talk about rubbing it in!!