Pee-pee plane

How do you begin a post with a title like that? Well, it goes like this. We're in Spokane. We're headed, all four of my family, to Seattle and then on to Detroit. All bags are checked. All CLOTHING is checked. We board the jump flight by walking out onto the, what do they call that?, tarmack? You know, when there's no tunnel thingy? And the plane is creepyly small. But you sort of feel like the president because you're hopping onto such a tiny plane? You get it.

So it's over-booked. We've purchased four tickets, but we find only three seats. And you know what? I could care less. Just get us the hell out of here, she's thinking. And so I grab both boys and slide into the last two seats on the left. Husband finds seat near front, conveniently.

And then the engines roar, and then the wheels begin to move, and then I feel something warm spreading over my trousers. Yep. I do. And I know what it is. And I ask him, and he confirms it. Yep, I pee-peed. And, remember, all the clothes are checked, and remember, we have a FIVE hour flight directly after this one.

And then, just as the seat belt lights disappear, the drink cart appears, on my left. And you know what that means? We are at the back of the plane and the bathroom is at the front. So we will have to wait until that fecking drink cart gets all the way up and all the way back. So you know what I order from that drink cart? Ten glasses of wine.

Fabulous flight. Loved it. Very warm lap.