This Means War

2| Like Some Geltao With That Leather Jacket

I groaned cursing myself for ordering a glass of wine after I'd finished my bottle of water. You just had to let loose didn't you. The snarky woman in my head accused, bouncing on her toes."Nathaniel...Nathaniel..." Attempting to rouse my sleeping companion, I sighed, shifting in my seat uncomfortably.

As of ten minutes ago crossing my legs only made my current situation worse. "Nate." I cried, shaking him a little harder, desperate for him to wake up. His feet were braced against the seat in front of us, regardless of the infinite space he already occupied, he insisted on stretching out further. Sadly, I knew that without a bucket of bloody ice water straight to the face he would remain dead to the world until he was good and ready.

"That's it!" I hissed. Unbuckling my belt I uncomfortably climbed over him and hurried to the toilet. As luck would have it, both pods were occupied. My bladder groaned in distress. Bouncing on my toes I folded my arms over my chest and waited. "Come on Nance, keep it together...." I muttered to myself, doing anything but breathing out.

"Are you alright honey?" A women in her mid-forties questioned taking in my agitated appearance. "Not a regular flyer?" She deduced, incorrectly.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" I snapped. My eyes widened apologetically. "S...sorry. It's just, I think I had a little too much to drink." I gestured with my hand pretending to throw back a drink. Great, now she probably thinks you're an alcoholic. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she forced a laugh and returned to her mobile. "Finally." I mumbled, almost mowing down the gentleman who exited the pod as I lunged inside.

Having finally emptied what felt like litres of liquid from my exhausted bladder, I sighed in contentment. The last thing I needed was the mortification of wetting myself upon landing. Cringing at the thought, I pressed the soap dispenser several times. "Bollocks." I tried again but nothing came out. Checking the cupboards and draws for any substitute I frowned coming up empty.

An inpatient knock on the door had me fumbling with the dispenser. "Hello, are you almost done in there, my son needs to go!" A voice called with annoyance.

"Just a few drops...come on, please..." I begged, whispering to a bloody soap dispenser, like a lunatic. "Bollocks!" The front cover of the dispenser fell off, clanging against the basin as it slipped from one side to the other. To my surprise and horror the dispenser hadn't been empty, only jammed.

Streams of liquid pink soap rapidly leaked from a plastic bag within the contraption— it now had a long slit running through the centre. Blanketing the counter, the soap continued to spread. I frantically swept the liquid into the basin— now elbow high in aeroplane toilet soap. My biceps burned in agony as I worked them furiously to contain the mess. It was no use. "Come on lady!" A younger voice echoed into the small lavatory. I wanted to cry.

My leggings were soaked in the slippery liquid, as was my sweater. Trying to keep my hair from falling in my eyes, I'd also managed to spread the soap to my face and curls. My moronic decision to run the tap had only left me with a sink overflowing with soapy bubbles. "Hey! What are you doing in there-other people need to use the toilet too!" They began to knock louder; I could hear a couple of people muttering on the other side. Admitting defeat, I dropped the toilet lid and sat down. Could this day get any worse? "That's it we're calling the attendants!" Someone threatened.

Completely covering the floor, soap and foamy bubbles stretched to every corner of the pod— curving around the toilet's base and vanity. "Ma'am! Ma'am are you alright? Please knock once if you need assistance. Ma'am! I'm afraid we'll have to open this door if you do not respond!" A more professional voice called.

Sighing, I found my voice. "Please...can you get my boyfriend, row three, seat two." My throat closed up at the request.

"Yes ma'am. Will you require medical assistance?"