The best part of the airport was the bathroom. The seats were soft and clean, the sinks looked nice, and almost all of the stalls had doors. It was always pretty quiet, too. The halls were sterile and lacked the constant hub-bub of airports the world over, due to the fact that most people only used the bathroom to go to the bathroom and take a dump. But still, if you had to be stuck at an airport on Christmas Eve, this was the place to be.
Almost as soon as Daphne got inside of the bathroom- I mean, room- she was unzipping the side of her bubble-gum pink backpack and pulling a small package out. I turned around, pulling the stall door closed. “Imma make a poop, later.” I said to her as I lifted the toilet seat and sat down, crossing my legs.
“What are you talking about? I got the room for the weekend.” I sighed and let my shoulders slump, my poop urge totally defeated by her statement. Daphne put the packet on the dry counter and pulled a wrinkly paper out of her backpack and sat down on the wet soiled toilet seat. She slid the packet open and reached inside, pulling out a piece of cheese.
“Yum.” She said in a fake-cheerful voice, putting the cheese in her mouth. I looked at her, annoyed at her nonchalant attitude towards food. Being trapped in the bathroom all day is not the time to be gluttonous. And its not like we are going to eat the whole thing.
“What are you doing?” I asked, curious at her stealthy actions.
“I’m making a cheese sandwich.” She said in a matter-of-fact tone, without looking up at me. “What are you doing?” I asked as bits of potty-paste that had fallen out of the opening of the packet floated in the sink.
“I’m pissing in here.” Was her reply. I shook my head, and turned around to look at her. “What’s the point?” She asked, talking as she pushed the packet away from her and pressed the flush button. “So, I can have make a poop later.” I said patiently.
“I’m not going to say anything, but they don’t allow it. Besides, I hear its a long way to go.” I said flatly. I looked at her again as she peed into the toilet bowl. I sussed out the packet and saw what looked like chicken nuggets, pieces of cheese, and something that looked like small pieces of bread. Pfft- wasting stuff by making cheese sandwiches! I thought.
“Imma share.” She declared as she pulled two big pieces of cheese out and handed me a piece of bread. Pfft!, I thought again.
“I’m not eating that.” I said as I rolled the bread between my finger and thumb, hating that fried shit.
“You’re not eating that, or you’re not eating that and yours, or you’re not eating that and mine?” Daphne asked, not getting it.
“You are not sharing.” Was my flat response to her request. She scoffed and put some cheese in her mouth, and took a bite from the primo piece of bread. Then it came to me.
“Wait. Did you get in trouble for being in there?” I ask, looking down at the small sink, the two of us crammed side-by-side on the toilet seat, the crack in the bottom of the stalls.
“No. Not yet. I doubt they will, it’s not like there’s a sign that says, pants or skirt = bad, gotta out.” She responded, snickering.
“Oh. You’re probably right.” She said, biting another piece of bread. She put the cheese pouches back into the packet and zipped it closed.
Suddenly, a man walked in, wearing a puffy parka. He looked like the Hulk, but much, much less green. He opened the stall next to us, and I think his name was Mr.Barker- it was a long name. I saw that he had two bags with him, and one of the bags had what looked like a bottle of champagne in the bottom. I must have been staring, because he smiled at me and put one of the bags down beside my feet.
“Are you going to use the bathroom?” he asks with a laugher in his voice. I nodded at him.
“You have a lot of bags.” I said, a little defensive. He nodded at me, his smile back on his face.
“Then I’m going to take off my jacket.” He replied, taking his jacket off of his shoulders and placing it on top of his bags, closing it up. I smiled at him, too. “Are you going to use the bathroom?” He asked again in a quieter voice, as if he was trying to be hidden from somebody. I nodded at him again. “That’s so awesome. So, are you going to use the bathroom?” He asked again, smiling. I smiled back at him and nodded. He seemed to have this nice demeanor, like a caring uncle. His clothes were snow-white, and his eyes looked kind of… brown? I am terrible with names. He walked over to the stalls, and pulled a little lever under the counter. The stall door popped open and he walked in.
“Is this seat taken?” he asked in a cheery voice. I shook my head. “These are deadbolts, you know. They are locked.” He said. I bit my lip to prevent myself from laughing so that he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. I looked at Daphne, she had a smug grin on her face. I shrugged and held up my hands, and Daphne and I giggled.
“Do you need a key?” he asked, his voice muffled by the stall door.
“No. I’m good.” I called back, trying to be a goody-two-shoes and be polite.
“I’m going to take off my shoes.” He said, his voice completely muffled now. He pulled off his shoes.
“You can go potty with them on.” I said, awkwardly. He didn’t reply, but I heard him opening his zipper.
“Ugh, these are tight.” He said, voicing his thoughts out loud. I cleared my throat.
“Do you need help?” I asked, praying that he didn’t. He sighed and replied, “No, it looks like my penis got smushed. I think I need to go upstairs for a doctor.” He sounded like he had food trapped in his throat.
I heard Daphne laugh again. I felt a little weird inside. He hadn’t gone back downstairs. I opened the stall door and asked him if he needed help. He waved me off.
“No. Just do what you can.” He said, his face pinched in pain. I turned around, facing Daphne.