It’s almost 11pm and I am sitting in the front of a tiny jet waiting to take off at the third world of all airports, LaGuardia. In fairness, they are working hard at making the inside of the terminals better, but tonight I drew the bad card that means my plane is one of the ones that there was no room for, so we had to be packed into a really hot bus where we were stuck for almost 30 minutes “in traffic” driving to the plane. Luckily the Skyteam and their global partners took great care in selecting our driver, an elderly Indian gentlemen who sang the entire time as he was driving as if none of us were even in the bus. While that sounds like I am poking fun, and in a slight way I am because it’s just odd that one will sing while doing their job – I mean, I can’t sing while doing mine, it was actually rather beautiful as, whatever it was, had a spiritual chant like tone that had a snappy rhythm that one could dance to.
I’ve been quiet this week and mostly because I am SLAMMED with work. I know my last post was me saying Axel and I were on the verge of some giant revelation, which we are, but this week I had the privilege, said only half way mockingly, to have been invited to give six three hour presentations to some very elite people with my big big boss, the man whose last name is on my business card. Frankly, he didn’t really need me, but he did need the breaks and, most importantly, he needed someone to do the work, so there I stood being the big boy. We have four of the six completed and he is on a different plane somewhere now, but I have to say this all just made me, well, uptight. Nervous was not the right word because I know how to deal with nervousness as even after probably a thousand presentations I still get nervous, but this was just an uptightness that didn’t really allow me to breathe until I dropped him off at his hotel at night (it sounds cold, but it’s actually quite lovely that in my practice, it’s rare that someone wants to go to dinner, etc). I handled it fine until today, today at the one hour and fourteen minute mark when, basically, I pissed myself.
See, when you walk around with an extra hole in your dick and/or a device attached to it, one must always take the proper precautions and to know that urination is no longer just a thoughtless process. No, it’s not technically hard and, no, it doesn’t really require anything more than a bit of thought, but, like a newbie locked in steel, I didn’t give myself that extra shake or six and, well, it was warmly noted within seconds. You may remember this happened to me many moons ago in Hong Kong and I covered with the splash, but today, that wasn’t really going to work. So, how did I do this you ask? Basically, I had to pee and I had to pee bad.
Unfortunately, this rush to be like a racehorse happened about three minutes into a section of the report I was responsible for presenting and I knew that if I rushed it I would be close enough to the scheduled break that I would be fine. However, me being me (sarcasm), I took what I was going to rush and I spoke on this topic like it was art. I was brilliantly clever with my words, my examples, and no amount of urine in my bladder was going to make me miss the point. Professional Drew was nailing it. Those people were going to carry me out of the room and straight to the Gents because it was going so well, until the question. That one fucking question.
As I am sure you know, there is always one person in any group who just has a way of taking a statement and getting the whole room so fucking off topic in seconds, that I swear they must teach a course on that at the old lady sweater shoppe where one can find all sorts of festive frocks and flags, usually featuring a feline. In this case, this woman was short, frazzled, and had those little chains on her glasses that normally spell trouble in almost any situation outside the Hobby Lobby and, today, she proved her stereotype right as she raised her chubby little hand and said, “Drew, I believe your math on that slide is wrong”. I hated her instantly because, yes, my math was wrong, but this caused about nine other people to start talking about accuracy, not mine, just some general colleague of theirs who they apparently hate and I tried like fuck to get them back on topic because, again, Drew. Had. To. Pee.
The worst part is after about ten minutes of this, they somehow morphed the conversation into exactly where I wanted it to go and brilliance reigned yet again, but I was literally one step away from crossing my legs and jumping up and down. At this point I finally just threw caution both the wind and directly to Max, what we will now call the boss man, by saying something like “and that is really wonderfully stated point and I am going to let Max answer that” before realizing that Max was not paying any attention and had no idea what I had done. So, bad enough that it was that I essentially cold cocked my boss, I then walked straight out of the room and into the hallway where I literally sprinted to the loo knowing that I had about seventeen seconds to go, get back, and pretend like I had never left. This was going to be one of those bathroom breaks where I was going to rebel against the hand washing sign because my turnaround was tight. It felt so good to pee that I selfishly allowed myself about thirty seconds to enjoy it before putting my friend away and running back to the meeting which is why, at this point, I forgot the second shake which, in the case of the urethral barbelled, causes a wee bit of piss to stay in the tube hiding until that exact moment when you point yourself south and tuck in. Today, as I began my springy step back toward my session, I realized what I had done almost instantly and there was not a single thing I could have done aside from slip into the room like a super sluethy ninja and take my place at – and as far under the table – as I could, which was not a place I had been before. Luckily, Max noticed this and, right before he tried to turn it back over to me, I gave him a look that apparently said “look, your name is on the door of a really expensive office suite and if I stand up here now it might be the end of all of us, so please, please old man keep talking (FYI, my face is very expressional)” and, luckily, he did.
While he talked about whatever, I prayed to both the watersports gods to dry my gray pants quickly while also asking myself WWFD (you know, what would Ferns do?) and luckily, the break was had, most people left, and I sat before taking a peek to find everything dry and happy and, unlike the Drew who would usually go far out of his way to over explain, I said nothing until Max came up to me and said, “what happened, you piss yourself?” FUCK, I’d been caught. While my mind mapped out what my resignation letters would actually say, I realized that he was just being an old man and was joking, so I fired back with some stupid male something like “no old man, I just wanted to see you work”, which resulted in a hearty laugh, a slap on my shoulder, and a “keep it up, kid” comment. Apparently, even as I possibly I sat there in a puddle, somehow, I won thus further proving to me that mixing old white men and corporate America with urine, is somehow this weird mix that wins. Who knew?
As an aside, I think this realization might also explain the current Republican presidential race?