A Time for Hope (Lexi, #3)(80)
The next morning was a flurry of activity and I forgot all about my late night resolve. Another day and yet another show saw us board another plane, this time bound for Missouri. I managed to quell my morning prayer to the porcelain gods (hopefully a sign I’d turned a corner) and despite Alex’s grumping that half a piece of wholegrain toast (the only thing I could stomach) was not breakfast, we made it onto the plane without incident.
“God, I really hate flying.” Dan closed his eyes as we prepared for take-off.
“Just don’t think about it,” I volunteered, wondering how a man who flew as much as he did still hadn’t conquered his fear.
The cabin crew cross—checked the doors and ran through the safety briefing. The usual airline spiel followed shortly after as we buckled up our seatbelts and prepared for take-off.
I felt a twinge in my belly as the plane rolled out onto the tarmac, the wheels quickened in their revolutions as the plane picked up speed. I tried to focus on my breathing as I started to feel unwell; I chalked up as a fluke my earlier hope of turning a corner.
“Baby, are you ok?” Alex asked as the plane’s wheels lifted from the runway. “You don’t look so good.”
“I’m feeling hot.” I pulled at my cotton t-shirt, conclusively regretting my decision to wear jeans. The waistband of my denim felt unbearable against my skin.
Alex reached above us and turned on the airflow, the cool air rushing down on me. As we climbed, the plane banked and my stomach lunged.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t nausea that required my immediate attention; it was another bodily function. Despite having gone to the bathroom only an hour or so before take-off, my bladder felt like it was going to explode. I’d never had such a sudden, unexplained urge to pee overtake me like that. I wiggled in my seat as I tried to suppress the sensation; the nausea tightening my stomach only seemed to exasperate the situation further. Damn it, it felt like I was going to pee my pants.
“You ok?” Alex asked curiously as he watched me cross my legs tightly.
“Uh-hmm.” I mumbled, unable to offer a more coherent response as I squeezed my legs together. As stupid as it sounded, it was as if my body was losing control of itself and I was worried that if I relaxed and opened my mouth, inevitably other things would start to flow.
I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to get out of the chair and into a bathroom. Now. Despite the plane still being in a steady climb, I reached down to my lap belt and unhooked it. The looming and very clearly lit “fasten seatbelt” sign displayed overhead taunted me as I tossed aside my unclasped restraints.
“Lexi, what the hell are you doing?” Alex asked incredulously, unable to ascertain why my seatbelt had been discarded and I was abandoning my seat.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I mumbled, griping the back of my seat as the plane pitched forward. The pressure on my bladder was unbearable, which only increased my resolve to get into a bathroom. It wasn’t that far, I could make it. All it would take is a few steps down the aisle of the plane, easy.
“We’re in take-off, you can’t get out of your seat.” Alex grabbed my arm to stop me from moving out of my chair. His brow knitted in confusion, wondering why his wife had suddenly decided now was a perfect time for a walk around a plane still ascending at what felt like a steep angle.
“Alex, I love you but I’ve been in enough take offs and landings to know this plane is on a steady course and we are fine. I need to go. Now!” I pushed past him and tried to stand up in the aisle.
“Lexi!” Alex tried to reason with me one last time as I attempted to move forward, the inertia threatening to send me colliding down the centre of the plane.
“Ma’am, please sit down. There is no moving around the cabin during take-off, even for our first class passengers.” The flight attendant called from the safety of her jump seat, annoyed that I’d had the audacity to disobey the rules.
“Lexi?” Matt looked up as I grabbed onto the leather headrest of his seat. “What are you doing? Get back in your seat.”
I ignored him, unable to expend any energy to speak as I forced my feet forward.
“Lexi?” Troy called from across the aisle, his expression of concern mirrored by James who also stared at me bewildered, “Lexi are you ok?”
“I’m desperate to pee.” I mumbled my feeble explanation, knowing I sounded ridiculous. I frowned as my need to get to a bathroom overrode my desire to not be an *, safety regulations be damned.
So while the plane was engaged in a steady climb I clawed my way down the narrow walkway a few steps at a time, holding onto the headrests of the other seats and fielding concerned looks from the band members. Step by step, I fought gravity as I made the short journey to the bathroom.
I finally reached the last row of seats before my salvation. Dan, whose seatback I used to steady myself, looked up at me through his Xanax induced haze, “Are you supposed to be tilted like that?”
I ignored him as the bright bathroom sign came into view, shining like a beacon of hope. I had no choice but to momentarily release my grasp on the seats that were steadying me and take the last few inches unaided. My feet gave way as I fell against the door of the airplane bathroom. My hands collided heavily with a spectacular crash against the metal door in order to break my fall. I pried open the door and tumbled into the tiny cubicle, relieved I had made the journey safely (and without an embarrassing accident).