That time I fucked an Asian family in an airport bathroom.

I find that I get a ton of inspiration from airport bathrooms... I try not to loiter in these places of business, but even my limited time spent within has given me multiple muses.

Years ago, I labeled some stranger a "cockroach" after watching him lay a toothbrush on a wet counter at LaGuardia while rummaging through his Dopp kit for toothpaste.  Once he found the paste, he proceeded to apply it to the brush and then insert it into his mouth directly from the moist countertop.

After that blog was published, I was nearly canceled by a small-but-powerful contingent of people who identify as roaches.

Back in the takeareport.com days, I spun a yarn about crop-dusting First Class while boarding a transcontinental flight… I remember vividly that I was taking Augmentin at the time for a chest infection, so my gas had that antibiotic 'tartness' to it.  I tried hard to hold it in while we were on the jetway, but this infected fog leaked out just before I made the right turn as I entered the plane, so I dragged it through a whole First Class Cabin filled with sensitive noses.

The comments from those overreactive capitalist pigs in First Class as I passed by made it seem like what I was laying down was about to trigger oxygen masks to descend from the ceiling above them.

By the way… If that were to happen, they should grab the mask, and pull it over their face, pulling on the side tabs to tighten.  And if they were traveling with a small child, they should secure their own mask before assisting others.

Or so I've been told. 

It probably didn't dissipate until the 12th row, or so, leaving was some collateral damage amongst my brothers in Coach. But the air was clear by the time I got to my seat in 24A… And I smiled ear-to-ear throughout the whole flight.

Another time, I once wrote after returning home to NYC from Ireland that "JFK explains why airport buildings are called 'terminals' because I believe you could contract cancer from the filthy and damp walls of the Men's Room in Terminal 5 that resemble the inside of a smoker's lung."

Recently I recounted the time I broke my 50-year-old cherry and shit in an airplane lavatory after a gastronomic adventure in California.

And a little less recently, I wrote about being bent over a sawhorse at the Hudson News convenience store in Las Vegas airport.

That last one relates to what I am writing now because it was in that blog that I vowed 2022 was the year I would fuck back.  However, we are almost into the second quarter of '22 and, sadly, I haven't done much fucking.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday, the bride and I were flying home from Captain Cons' wedding in Naples, FL, and we were significantly early for our departure from Gate C3 at Southwest Florida International Airport in sunny Fort Meyers.

As is the case in most events I attend, the bartenders at Cons' reception were extremely irresponsible, so I was overserved. 

Couple that with the fact I made some imprudent food choices later that night, and you have me sitting at the gate hungover and in a digestive lurch.

By the way again… Lurch from Foreplay was also at the wedding.  Was my first time meeting him… Lovely fellow.

So I am sitting there, biding my time when I was going to have to use the Men's Room before boarding the plane because I never want to shit whilst in flight again, and I notice a housekeeping trend developing at the Rest Rooms directly across from my gate.  

For reference, there was a Ladies' Room on the right, drinking fountain, a Family Bathroom in zee middle, drinking fountain, and then a Men's Room on the left.

A small-but powerful cleaning woman (a cockroach perhaps?) started on the right and put up a small barrier at the entrance to the Ladies' Room alongside her janitorial cart.  Immediately a line of broads began to form outside of her barrier as she cleaned the facilities.

The roach-woman was only in there for a few minutes, but the line became substantial.  And by the time she was done, the eager female travelers rushed into their newly-cleaned stalls to drain their dragons.

She then went to the Family Bathroom and put up the same barrier.

While she was inside, an Asian family (dad, mom, & 2 small kids) attempted to use that bathroom, but they were rebuffed by the woman inside who chided them for not reading the barrier at the entrance.

The Asian family took their tongue-lashing and sheepishly walked away… Lesson learned, I suppose.

It was at this moment that I decided to make my move.

"Watch my stuff."- I said to my wife, and as the cleaning lady made her way to the left towards the Men's Room, I jumped into the Family Bathroom and quickly locked the door behind me.

As soon as that lock clicked shut, I turned and realized I made a VERY good decision.

Unless you have access to a First Class Lounge, there is no "good" way to use airport bathrooms… There are only ways that are less terrible than others.

I used to have access to all the fancy lounges and Admiral's Clubs, and they were AWESOME… Have a bloody mary and some charcuterie before you hit the john, and then maybe a cucumber water and a danish after you get out.

But then my industry fell apart, I had a bunch of kids, and changed professions… So now I constantly have to search for that aforementioned 'least terrible' option while people wealthier than I eat my danishes and drink my bloodies.  

And I found that option.

A newly-cleaned Family Bathroom is the best way a single person of limited means can shit in an airport.

They are spacious, obviously clean, well ventilated, and very private.

There are hooks that are meant for strollers and diaper bags but can also be used to hang every single stitch of clothing you are wearing (if, like me, you like to shit naked).  And there is a table that is meant to hold a baby waiting to be changed but can also be used to hold a propped-up iPhone that is playing an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm.

So I sat there… Naked as an Asian newborn… Enjoying Larry David while ridding my bowels of the demons I accumulated the day before, and the whole experience was arguably the highlight of a very enjoyable weekend getaway.

The only downside was the occasional polite knock and distant chatter from outside the door… It would've been more distracting, but it was in a language I didn't understand.  I popped in my earbuds to drown it out, regardless.

I spent a considerable amount of time on that toilet.  And for two reasons:

1. We were early for our flight, so I had all the time in the world.
2. Whenever I rush a hungover dump, I find that I have a residual payload that causes me to make a second trip back to the bathroom… And since I would arguably never be in an optimal 'shituation' like this again, I would just wait for the second wave of stool in this spotless and tranquil oasis.

Sure enough, after about 20 minutes, that second wave hit me and I let it go… I felt refreshed and empty (in a good way… not emotionally).

So I lifted myself off the commode, got dressed, washed up, and headed for the locked door.

And when I opened the door, I was confronted with the inevitable… Four angry Asians looking to use the Family Bathroom.

There were a number of things I could've said to them… 

• "Sorry for the wait."
• "Kept it warm for you."
• "Enjoy."
• "Count yourself lucky I am not on Augmentin."

But I decided to say nothing and instead just push through their Great Wall back into the arms of my loving wife.

"Where the fuck were you?" she asked un-lovingly, and I gave her the whole recap I just laid out for the handful still reading.

And she was relieved because she may not be a gynecologist, but she's well aware of how much of a cunt I can be if I need to take a dump in an airport.

We sat at the gate for perhaps 15 more minutes before we started that disgraceful practice of jockeying for position before your group is called to board the plane.  My wife and I were in a very respectable GROUP 2, so we wouldn't have long to wait.

And as we walked on the plane, I saw some familiar faces already seated in First Class… That group of four that just shared the warmth of my ass in the Family Restroom (apparently they are Crazy Rich Asians).  And the thought of fucking over a handful of First Class passengers put an ear-to-ear smile on my face that I haven't had since the crop dusting incident in 2007.

As we reached seats 8E and 8F, my wife asked (again unlovingly… she is cranky when she flies, apparently), "What the hell are you smiling about?"

To which I answered, "Oh, nothing… But make sure you wake me up when the drink cart comes by… I am in the mood for a bloody mary and a danish."

Take a report.

-Large