Burning Moon (Wattpad Version)

Chapter 2

Have you ever tried to relax when you’re so embarrassed that all you want to do is climb under a bush, or in my case, into the overhead storage compartment and into someone’s hand luggage? Have you ever tried to relax when you know there are dozens of curious eyes watching you? Dozens of lips curled into smirks, brows raised in query and the sound of whispers all around?

“Oh my God, Tony, look at what that poor girl’s wearing.”

“She must be mad.”

“She’s probably sick.”

“Shame, maybe she’s depressed or schizophrenic or something sad like that.”

Yip, at this stage telling me to "sit back, relax and enjoy the flight", like the overly enthusiastic airhostess was doing, was just not going work. It was like telling a patient at the gynaecologist's office, with her legs up in stirrups, to "relax… you won’t feel a thing".

At least I was able to dispose of the slippers under the seat. Unfortunately, what I wasn’t able to dispose of were my bright pink, practically luminous, pyjamas with the picture of the smiling fork and spoon holding hands plastered across the front, with the slogan that reads Spooning leads to forking.  

Sue and Val had given them to me at my bachelorette party. And oh how we’d laughed! Ha, ha! Ha, ha! Ha, ha!

I certainly wasn’t laughing now. Even if everyone else was.

But it was the inevitable toilet-run that I was dreading the most. I’d been holding it in for as long as humanly possible, but with each passing moment, and each pass of the drinks trolley, it was becoming harder. I’d even rejected the free alcohol that had been offered to me in an attempt to keep it at bay. But finally, seven hours into the flight, I realised that my camel-like bladder was failing. And I knew it was time to make the walk of shame.

I glanced in the direction of the loo; my seat couldn’t be further away from it if I’d been sitting on the wing of another airplane. There were at least 30 rows of people between me and my destination. I took a deep breath, trying to psych myself up; it wouldn’t be that bad. I’d already suffered the worst humiliation in the world; this would be a piece of cake in comparison. So what if a hundred people were about to see me in my pj’s. It wouldn’t be that bad? Surely?

I got up, my legs were shaking and my mouth was dry from total dehydration. I started shuffling down the aisle and decided I would smile at people as I went, perhaps if I looked friendly, they wouldn’t notice the blindingly pink pyjamas. But I think the smiling just made it worse…

“Mmmm, yes, definitely from a Looney Bin. Did you see that smile, Tony? It was positively manic.”

I carried on walking; a mother put her hand over her son’s eyes when she saw him starting to figure out what my pyjamas meant. Another mother pulled her child close… she looked frightened. At one point a man gave me a little 'meow' and another one winked. Yeah, yeah, real comedians.

A few seats up a group of Chinese tourists started taking photos of me, as if I were some bearded woman at a freak show. I knew I was wearing pyjamas, but wasn’t that a bit excessive? I threw my head back and tried to look dignified, but inside I was dying.

I was so happy and overcome with relief when I finally reached the toilet that I flung open the door and practically hurled myself inside…

Whack! Thump!

I bumped into something. Very hard. When I finally orientated myself, I came face to face with 'Goth Guy' -- that’s what I’d named him as I’d mentally cursed him for several minutes after our initial contact -- and he was rubbing his head.