Bitch on the Blog

August 21, 2011

Mais wee

I am fond of Gerard Depardieu (the actor) though, romantically speaking, he is not my type. Neither does it matter.

I am disappointed with him: If, as a grown man, you really ARE banned from going to the toilet – your bladder at bursting point – just as the plane turns a corner you do NOT relieve yourself – in full view of others – in the middle of the corridor. You go to the galley and draw the curtain. You know, that shows a little bit of initiative.¬†Alternatively: Sit quietly – in your seat – use your jacket – even if a fully blown version of an Armany suit – and do your business in there. Surreptitiously as it were. Yes, your jacket will be drenched, yes, you will sit on a wet seat for the duration of the flight but at least you won’t have made a complete ass of yourself. You can always tip the stewardess and the cleaning stuff for their inconvenience later.

Reminds me of many years ago when Apple of my Eye and I had boarded plane only to be kept waiting on tarmac for take off for ages and ages and ages. Turned into a mild, nothing out of the ordinary, nightmare. Naturally, enter a young boy’s (say three or four year old) bladder. He had to go. That was all there was to it. Something had to give. And it wasn’t me. I rarely display, in public, utter disdain for arbitrary rules and regulations. But when I do – it sure works, most the time. We were not yet on a full roll on the run way when the stewardess blocked our way to the toilet with the immortal words: ” We CANNOT take the responsibility.” “No”, I said, “YOU can’t but I can. I am his mother”. She stepped aside. Oh, YES!

And since we are down piss and travel, and it is a deadly combo: Once the Angel and I heading down from England, caught in some traffic jam on a motorway in Belgium or Germany, with not one chance in hell for me to pull over, I handed him an empty (small) waterbottle: “Just do it.” He wasn’t convinced. I presented him with a choice and asked him to employ reason: Wet trousers or a full Evian recepticle? He trusted his mother and enjoyed a dry journey for the rest of it. By the way: Driving on high speed motorways for hours on end and bladders (including your own) are only for those with nerves of steel.

Good old memory lane,




  1. I never will forget many, many years ago I was in a car with my “Cyclone” bicycle buddies when I needed to pee worse than I EVER had. I wasn’t assertive enough to say “STOP THE CAR” & relieve myself. (outside of course)

    Except there was a worse time when I might have burst & killed myself. I was having a medical test where you’re to drink a gal of water & then more. Forget what test, unless it was to lift the bladder off the colon for a Colonoscopy. ??? They said if you hadn’t drunk enough, they wouldn’t do the test.

    I got there ready to burst when they said it would happen in another hour. So I kept drinking…

    Comment by bikehikebabe — August 21, 2011 @ 18:41 | Reply

  2. i used to take my kids back and forth to Asia when they were toddlers. There were a few bumpy spots, but I will leave that alone. Just don’t want to fly to a country that uses squat toilets.

    Comment by Looney — August 23, 2011 @ 01:30 | Reply

  3. Had a similar experience except at a wedding yesterday. Lots of drinking and happiness – then speeches began, with the speechifiers standing in the way of the corridor to the pub toilets. And one of the speakers was notorious as a meandering longwinded (albeit delightful) talker. It was a tense time for everyone – except me. I nipped outside as the anxiety level rose inside.

    Comment by blackwatertown — August 27, 2011 @ 17:26 | Reply

    • Blackwatertown, If you want to up the ante you may wish to attend an Oktoberfest (with my brother). It’s all very well for men. Where there are dogs there will be trees. The queues at the ladies make you ponder on why god didn’t employ quality control along his production line and why there are never any bushes when you need them. And who the hell planted hops in the first place?



      Comment by Ursula — August 27, 2011 @ 18:27 | Reply

  4. You just solved one of my lifelong mysteries: apparently, I have the bladder of a four-year-old. There must be others like me. Now if we could just get our own special section in the movie theater (wide aisles and close to the door.

    Comment by bronxboy55 — September 12, 2011 @ 15:43 | Reply

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