The tip:

ALWAYS check airplane toilets to be sure the lid is open before you, well . . . you know.

The backstory, explanation, and learned-from-experience reason for this tip:

Pre-marriage, I was a world traveler.  I was very comfortable taking long plane trips with lots of layovers half-way across the world.  Alone.

I don’t remember the exact flight when I learned this tip.  I know it wasn’t the one where the guy next to me spilled his red wine on my brand new shirt.

It definitely wasn’t the one where the as-drunk-as-I’ve-ever-seen-anyone woman behind me removed her seat-belt during landing, rolled (literally) onto the floor, and stayed there until after we touched down.

I think it was the flight where they played Nothing to Loseas the in-flight movie (while most people were sleeping) and the other passengers kept getting annoyed with me because I couldn’t keep from laughing out loud. (Please note that the airplane version had removed the foul language.  When I watched the real version later with all the expletives, it wasn’t *quite* as funny!)

Anyway, I’m guessing it was because I didn’t want to miss a moment of that truly hysterical movie that I waited until the very last minute to head to the lavatory.

Before I explain exactly what happened, I must make a confession.

I . . . am . . . a hover-er. 

Public restrooms and my germaphobia don’t really get along.  I do try to always follow the instructions I saw years ago: “If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweetie and wipe the seatie.”

I know.  That means my actual hands are basically touching the seat, but at least I can wash my hands.  My hiney? Now that would be interesting.

Anyway, in my haste, I didn’t follow the above tip.  Instead, I proceeded to wee-wee on what I soon (but not soon enough) realized was a closed toilet lid.

It wasn’t pretty.  While I was able to spend a ridiculous amount of time in there wiping up the mess . . . there was nothing I could do to save the bottom half of my clothing.  Thankfully, I had stuffed a pair of jeans in my backpack.  Less-thankfully, I hadn’t stuffed any of the other piece of clothing I so desperately needed.

That’s right, I flew the rest of the way around the world (at least 14 more hours) going commando.

Aren’t you glad you stopped by my blog today for this totally-random-inspired-by-my-recent-travels-with-two-boys-who-drank-waaaay-too-much-”free”-coke-and-took-seven-trips-t0-the-bathroom-on-a-single-two-hour-flight post?

It’s summer.  I take my inspiration wherever I can get it.

Oh, and the link to the movie?  It’s my Amazon affiliate link.