Tag: bathroom

Driving I-95 N. With Super Beta-Sitesterol.

Live & Learn29 Comments

hands-of-a-marionette-player-tina-modotti

It’s Friday rush hour, on I-95 N.
The late afternoon sun beams through the side window.
An observer peering through the windshield would see: Man surrendered.

Just get me home, and unshackle me from this suit, this choking neck tie, and these wingtips molded around my swollen arches from the soaring humidity. Get.me.out.of.here.

I stand in traffic ten exits from home.
I turn up the AC, adjust the vents, loosen the tie and let it blow.

Sirius is set to MSNBC talk radio. Trump is ranting. Hillary’s consiglieres are stripping him down, one rant at a time.  They drone on with the mindless chatter.

There’s a commercial break from the spew – my ears twitch.

  • Are you over 50?
  • Does your life revolve around going to the bathroom?
  • Do you wake up at night with the constant urge to go?
  • Does your sex life need revitalization?
  • Did you know that 50% of men over 50 have an aging prostate issue? Chances are you need Super Beta Prostate too.

Jesus. Really? Does anyone really buy this crap? Continue reading “Driving I-95 N. With Super Beta-Sitesterol.” →

Flying over I-95 N. Sometimes, you gotta go.

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Airplane-Lavatory-Door

We are lifting off on flight #2395 heading back north.

I sneak a last peak at my smartphone, a text message from home:

It’s windy (very) here.  Expect a bumpy descent into NY. 

Lamott’s Help, Thanks, Wow: Three Essential Prayers comes to mind. Help! Thanks! Wow!  Thank YOU for the soothing send-off. My fingers are on the keys to fire back a rocket. I decide against it. What incredible restraint you have shown. And yet, so unlike you. I sit and ponder whether I’ve finally matured in Middle Age. Shake my head. An aberration from the mean. I’ll get the final word when I get home.

And, it’s choppy.

The beverage cart is rolled cautiously down the aisle. It is now a “beverage” cart. There are no longer any complimentary snacks on two and half hour flights. It is noted that the seats still recline, and they are complimentary as part of the ticket purchase.

I ask for a Diet Coke. It will dissolve a nail and here you are fueling your tank. She offers me the entire can. Just drink half.  Do it.  I slug it back, all of it, like a thirsty sailor. There are no napkins, those cost extra, so I wipe the spillage with my shirt sleeve. Class.

And, it’s choppy.

As the plane lurches up and down and left and right, the soda sloshes around. The Oxidation process is well under way, my intestines groan.  In my youth, my bowels could swell up like a dirigible and I would feel no discomfort – a light balloon drifting in a summer breeze. No longer. A whiff of dew and he’s a boogie-eyed meerkat on look out for the toilet.

And, it’s choppy.

Expect a bumpy descent into NY. We’re still one and half hours away.

There are core foundational principles with air travel. On the top of this list: “Avoid the Lavatory.” Unless you are ready to explode, don’t do it. Why do they call it a lavatory? Lavatory. It sounds like Def: A location where medical research is being conducted. But it is def: A room with a toilet and sink. AND LAYERS OF JUMPIN’ BACTERIA. The best outcome here is avoidance. Period. There is no close second.

And, it’s choppy. Continue reading “Flying over I-95 N. Sometimes, you gotta go.” →