Chapter 9

ChapterNine

Text from Birdie: Eek, Brewster, you’re on a plane right now! Go you! I’ve sent you an email with details on places you might want to visit when you’re in New York. No pressure! I know you’re not there for a touristy trip, but you’ll defo have time to have a little look around. And I’d love it if you took some pictures of stuff for me! I love being a British Citizen now, but it will be nice to see my bonkers home city through your fresh eyes! Hope flight going well and you are not freaking out too much. I bet you’re totally fine and are wondering why you have never flown before, right? Am v proud ofyou!!

I have managedto hold my bladder for three hours, which has got to be some kind of record! But it’s now so full from all of the champagne that I’m feeling all fidgety and uncomfortable.

I should probably go and deal with it. But the thought of actually unbuckling my safety belt, leaving behind my life-saving oxygen mask, standing up on this wobbly plane and walking to the loo feels like a thing I really do not want to do. Also I am pretty tipsy again now. Fine, that’s an understatement. I am discreetly wasted. I say discreetly because nobody knows. I’ve just been quietly watching Curb Your Enthusiasm, drinking my champagne every time the plane shakes, which is a lot. Still, I am nowhere near inebriated enough to brave the toilet. I mean, what if something happens while I’m in there? There’s turbulence or a plane emergency and there’s no one there to help me? And the plane goes down, and I die mid-pee. I don’t want to die mid-pee.

My bladder gives out another squeeze of desperation.

Argh! What other choice do I have? I can’t piss myself right here in the plane seat. I mean, it’s first class.

I look around desperately.

There’s only one thing for it. I need a flight attendant to come with me. They can hold me steady while I walk down the aisle of the plane, stand outside and then if anything bad happens in the cubicle they can help me escape. Yes, that’s it. That’s what I’lldo.

I press my cabin crew dinger.

I wait for a few minutes, but no one comes.

I press it again.

Nothing!

Where are they? Is there some sort of emergency? Something bigger than the emergency in my bladder?

Biting my lip, I peer around to see where the loo is. It’s only a few seats away. Maybe I can makeit…

And then the plane swings violently, quickly to the left. NO one else seems to notice but Ido.

I press my dinger thing again.

Nada.

Shit. I can’t wait any longer. Literally cannotwait.

There’s only one thing forit…

I spin my pod seat around and knock on the back of queue guy’sseat.

He spins around and takes his headphones off his head. ‘What’s up, FannyPack?’

Ugh. I cannot believe I am about to dothis.

‘I need you to come to the loo with me. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t ask ifI…’

Queue jumper’s eyes widen, a flash of amusement in them. He pokes his head out of the pod and looks up and down the aisle.

‘There are no flight attendants about,’ I explain. ‘I checked and double-checked, trustme.’

‘Um, yeah, okay then.’ He pushes his specs up his nose. ‘Let’s gothen!’

I smile. That was easy! He’s being really nice about it! Okay, this will be all right. A little embarrassing but better than the alternative.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and, as I stand, I grab onto Queue jumper’s arm. He looks down in surprise.

‘Wow, you’re eager,’ he says with agrin.

‘I really need it. I need it bad,’ I explain.

He nods with an expression of surprise and approval.

He’s being so cool about escorting me to the loo. Maybe I had misjudged him. Maybe he’s not what the Americans would call ‘ajerk’.

In only a few shaky steps we have reached the toilet.

‘Are you sure? The whole engaged thing,’ he says weirdly.

I point at the toilet sign. ‘It’s not engaged. It’s vacant.’

‘Huh?’ He looks confused. ‘Uh, my name’s Seth, by the way.’ He takes off his glasses and slips them into the breast pocket of his button-down.

‘Hiya Seth. And thanks for this. You’re a lifesaver.’

‘I do what I can,’ he responds with an odd cocky look on hisface.

I open the door to the loo and shuffle in. And just as I’m about to close the door, Seth also comes into the loo, kicks the door shut behind him, pushes me against the sink, grabs my face with both hands and kissesme.

Whaaaaat?

Aaaaaaargh!

I push away. ‘What the hell? What are you doing? Get off!’ I yell at him, using my hoodie sleeve to wipe my mouth of his surprise advance. ‘Perv alert! Getout!’

He jumps away, holding his hands up as if I’m pointing a gun at him and he’s showing his willingness to co-operate.

‘What? You said wanted usto…?’

‘Us to what?’ I ask, wiggling desperately.

‘Join the mile-high club. You said you needed it real bad? I thought you wantedto…’

‘No!’ I hiss, shaking my head in horror. ‘I don’t want to have sex with you on this death machine. I need a piddle. God, I really need to go rightnow!’

‘SORRY, WHAT? A PIDDLE?’

He reaches his arm out to open thedoor.

‘Don’t open the door!’ I say furiously. I can’t wait a second longer. I yank down my jeans. ‘Turn around!!’ I yell, mortified. ‘And… cover your ears. Oh no. It’s happening!’

Seth gives me a horrified look before turning away and clamping his hands down over hisears.

Oh god. How embarrassing. It’s one of those really long weestoo.

When I’m all finished, I step over to the sink with a wobble and wash my hands.

‘Sorry,’ I say to Seth as he uncovers his eyes and just stares at me, shaking his head slowly in disbelief. ‘I’m really sorry! I think… we got our wires crossed…’

Seth looks terrified, to be fair he has every right. He thought I wanted to engage in a sensual sky-high rendezvous and instead I have forced him to witness me going to the loo against his will. I probably should not have any more champagne…

Wide-eyed, Seth take his specs back out of his shirt pocket and slides them back on hisface.

‘I’ll um… I’ll just um… wow.’

He tries to leave and I grab onto his arm with both hands.

‘Just lead me back to my seat,’ I say, feeling like the biggest dick in the entire world. ‘And I’ll leave you alone forever, I swear. I don’t have a child or a pet to swear on. I mean, I used to have a cat called Mr Muscle, but in 1999 I swore on his life that I wasn’t lying about something when I was lying and the next day he died in mysterious circumstancesso—’

‘Come on. Let’s get you back to your seat,’ he interrupts. He’s speaking slowly, kindly. Like I’m a very young person or a very old person.

We open the door and as I walk out of the loo, clinging onto Seth’s arm in case the plane gets shaky again, the air hostess from before catches sight of us. She looks at me with great distaste.

As Seth takes back his arm, sits in his pod, jams his headphones over his ears and starts furiously tapping away on his laptop keyboard, I sit down shakily and buckle myself up. As I do, the air hostess strides over and crouches down beside me, her lovely small nostrils flaring.

‘On behalf of us here at BA, we rescind our congratulations,’ she hisses, looking me up and down. ‘Colin deserves better.’