So I’m at the National Airport in Washington, D.C. getting ready to catch a flight back to Albany, NY. I had spent a few days there helping to run a conference and I was eager to get home. 

I had a huge garment bag that I could fit three suits and three shirts into. It had a lot of pockets, and it was pretty bulky. I was heading to check it in when I realized I had pissed myself. This was the first time this had ever happened since I was diagnosed with atypical Parkinsonism, the angry brother of Parkinson’s. I stood there with my pants soaking wet. I was still in my suit. The place was mobbed.

Carefully, I held the garment bag in front of me and began walking toward the bathroom. My gait was a little marked, as It had been for about a year and a half. My right leg dragged a little. I made it through the crowd and to the men’s room– only banging into three or four people. When I got in the men’s room, still nervous, I grabbed some paper towels and wet a few of them at the sink, all the time carefully holding my garment bag in front of me. The stain ran from my crotch to the crest of my knee. It already smelled.

I made it into one of the stalls. I don’t know if you’ve ever been in one of the stalls at the National Airport, but they are not built to hold a 6’4,”  230-pound guy and his bulky garment bag. I took off my shoes in order to get my pants off, falling several times against the wall in the process. Every move set off the automatic flush. At one point I lost my balance and actually fell down onto the toilet, which hurt like hell.

I was down to my boxers when my phone rang. It was in my pants pocket. I grabbed the wet pants off the floor and took a look to see who it was. It was my 93-year-old mother calling. I figured I’d clean up first and then call her back. 

Finally, I got the pants off. Then, as soon as I got my boxers off, my phone rang again. My mom. I thought it might be an emergency, so I answered it. Now I’m standing in an airport stall, naked, except for my socks. All around me I could hear constant flushing from other stalls. I worried about who would see my pants and shoes on the floor but I answered anyway.

“Hello, Mom, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Where are you?” she asked.

“I’m at the airport.”

“What airport? What’s all that noise?”

“I’m at the airport, Mom. I’m taking a flight home to Albany tonight.”

“Where are you? What airport?” she asked again.

“I’m in Washington. At the airport.” I had to shout into the phone, because she didn’t have her hearing aids in.

“What are you doing in Washington?”

“I had a conference. It’s over. I’m at the airport. Is something wrong?”

My toilet flushed again as I tried to wipe myself off with a paper towel and talk to my mom at the same time. I glanced at my watch. I still had to repack my bag, check it in, get my boarding pass, and make it to my gate.

“What’s that noise, Dennis?”

“I’m at the airport, mom. What do you need?”

“Why is it so noisy?” she persisted.

“I’m at the airport, it’s a noisy place, what do you need?” At this point, I was struggling to find clean underwear in my garment bag. I was still naked. My wet clothes were still on the floor. As I dug around in the bag for underwear, I accidentally kicked one of my shoes out of the stall, beneath the door.

Now I’m reaching for the shoe under the stall door, talking to my mom, still naked except for my socks, bracing myself on my knees. My toilet flushed again.

Mom: “What’s that noise? Where are you? Why is it so noisy?”

I grabbed my shoe and said “Mom, I have to check in. What do you need?”

“I can’t turn the TV on.”

I’ve been through this a thousand times before. 

“You press the red button, Mom.”

“I pressed the red button and every other button,” she said. “What’s all that  noise?”

I knew from experience that by now my mother had probably turned off the TV and switched everything to DVD due to her button mania. I also knew I could never walk her through the process while on the phone. Naked. In an airport stall.

I said “Mom, I’m at the airport. I’ll stop off and take care of it when I get home tonight.” I had found my clean boxers and then the toilet flushed again.

“What’s all that noise?” she asked.

I dropped my phone while trying to grab at clean pants from the bag.

When I bent down to pick it up, the toilet flushed one more time. 

Me: “Mom, I’m at the airport in Washington, D.C. It’s a noisy, busy place. I have to catch my plane. I will fix your TV as soon as I can.”

Mom: “Are you coming or going?”

Me: “I’m coming home. I’m at the airport in Washington, D.C. It’s a noisy, busy place. I have to catch my plane. I will fix your TV as soon as I get home.”

Mom: “Okay, but what’s all that noise?”

Me: “Bye, Mom, I’ll see you later. Just read the newspaper until I get there.”

Mom: “I can’t find my glasses.”