A colleague and I had to visit a company that was holding an open day in Stuttgart. They had laid on a plane for all potential customers. We got to the charter base and saw three Learjets parked outside – “sweet” we all thought. After about an hour we heard a sound like a ride-on mower and around the corner comes a -very old- Fairchild twin prop. A sixteen seater with two lawnmower engines and duct tape on the wings (I kid you not). As I’ve mentioned before in other posts, I have a phobia about flying so this did nothing to help. Still, hospitality was good and I’d had two stiff whiskies so I boarded with everyone else.
It was a SMALL plane, the guy in front of me was the pilot, I could look over his shoulder and see all the stormy weather on the radar thingy – oh dear. I had to sit with my head to one side because the roof of the cabin was that low. The toilet facilities consisted of a plywood sheet cut to the size of the cabin interior and stuck in front of the cargo hold; a small door was cut into the wood. The toilet was one of those camping type toilets and the roof was so low that no man could stand when ‘doing his stuff’ in there.
Anyway the plane took off and two of the female reps of the company very kindly started handing out large measures from a catering sized bottle of Bells whisky. The flight was bumpy (like extreme off-roading bumpy) and tense but we got there. Ten minutes before touchdown my colleague is bursting for the toilet. He’s begging to be allowed to go but rules are rules. So he sits there fidgeting and trying his best to think dry thoughts.
The plane touches down and we taxi to the gate. As soon as the plane stops my colleague is out of his seat and runs to the back of the plane, the bolt in the toilet door snapping like a gunshot (as told by him). He’s managed to assume a position where he’s able to stand to wee by dint of pulling his trousers round his ankles and has contorted himself so that he can relieve himself in a pseudo-manly way. Suddenly, the whole cargo bay/toilet is bathed in light. He turns around and sees about five very wide eyed and disturbed baggage handlers staring open mouthed at this apparition (white bum and all). He manages to stop mid-flow (no mean feat), pulls his trousers up and legs it back into the cabin just in time to disembark.
He didn’t drink at all on the way back.