Anal in the Airport – EW!

From Dictionary:

The term anal retentive (also anally retentive), commonly abbreviated to anal,[1] is used conversationally to describe a person who pays such attention to detail that the obsession becomes an annoyance to others, and can be carried out to the detriment of the anal-retentive person. The term derives from Freudian psychoanalysis. People who are said to be anal retentive usually suffer from obsessive–compulsive personality disorder[citation needed].

First of all, I don’t get why “anal” has to be part of the description?  I don’t associate the anus with cleanliness.  I should have bought stock in Charmin.  I abuse the paper.  I am probably responsible for destroying a large percentage of the rainforests.  I am ashamed.  But  my sphincter sparkles.

When I was younger, I was oblivious to germs.  Now I don’t like to touch public toilet  handles or doors.  Sitting on them is out of the question.   It improves my balance and leg strength!  I’m surprised there is not a yoga position.  Pooper pose?  And I certainly do not touch the flushers.  (I use my foot.)

Those automatic flushing systems?  Definitely invented by the Anal Retentive Association.   And they don’t always work!  Then what are you left with?

I’m actually sitting at Newark Airport right now, on the floor, before security.  Waiting for hubby.  We dropped off the bags, and he went to put the car in a lot.  Good time to write a blog!

LIVE SHOT!  12:02 p.m. Sat. 9/3/11

Anal retentive me is on the floor!  So I’m not that bad.  And I must say, I am impressed with the cleanliness of it!   But the bathrooms?

As I went into the Ladies Room, I noticed a security guard peaking in a few stalls before entering.  She was not looking for bombs.  She was screening for torpedos.

We all do it.  And that’s the problem with the automatic flushers!  They don’t always respond to the workload.  They are as efficient as the TSA.

Of course, when I was finished with my business, the toilet did not flush.  I didn’t want to be one of those folks that just leaves the scene of the crime.   That’s not very neighborly.  Why do people do that?  WHY?  WHY??!

So I looked.  There was no little black plastic button to push!  (And even if there was, I would have to take another wad of t.p., so not to directly touch the button.  Ew!

Then I noticed the little red light that was not lit.  I waved my hand across it like a wand, using my magic plumbing powers.

Yay!  Success!  I felt like Harry Potter!

But there is no spell that will keep me from being terrified every time I see a little kid squirming onto a public toilet seat.  Ew!  (And NO, I do not go looking at little kids in bathrooms.)

They leave the door open!  With Mom there using their kid as a toilet seat mop!  Why do mother’s allow that?  WHY???  WHY??  AHHH!  I don’t think I could ever be a Mom.  I would have a heart attack.

Moving right along towards the gate on that electric walkway thingy.  Hubby glided his hands across that black rubber rail.  Just looking at it disgusted me!  Ew! I had to say something!

“Yuck!  Do you know how many people put their hands on that?”

Then he got annoyed for my criticism.  (What’s new?) I am a joy to travel with!

Luckily I am not monitoring his bathroom visits!  I would faint and hit my head on the urinal.  EW!

Quick stop at the Presidential Lounge to take as many food items on the plane that we can stuff in our bag.  We have to buy the food on the plane, now.  They really expect people to pay for that cuisine?

I’m actually glad.  It gives more of an option to pack a picnic with goodies….you make yourself….that no one else puts their grubby hands on!  Ew!


Mozzarella di Bufala with Jersey Tomatos and Fresh Basil

Melone e Prosciutto

Lavash with Rosemary

Avocado Salad with aged balsamic monkey balls

Biscotti dipped in Chocolate

All the shit from the President’s Club


We’ve got a 5:40 minute flight.   I hope I don’t ruin my appetite for the 6 hour layover in San Francisco.  Our friend is picking us up to dine in one of the most beautiful cities in Western Civilization.  You can’t compare it to Rome., of course. OMG!  The toilets in Italia?  Mama Mia!  Da Vince  dropped the ball there.   EW! EW! EW! EW! EW!  

Japan gets the award for the coolest!  Complete with a fresco of options.  The Sixteenth Chapel of toilets.  A Masterpiece.

And how on earth did Japan’s neighbors miss the boat?  China takes home the Silver for most disgusting toilets olympics.   What form!

And the Gold goes to….TIBET!

Oh!  I could talk about toilets I have experienced all day!  But I have a plane to catch….

I’m supposed to call my friend when we land.  Which brings me to my next anal characteristic.

WE DON’T ALL NEED TO HEAR YOUR CONVERSATION ON YOUR CELL PHONE WHEN YOU LAND!  Really?  Can’t you keep it down to a loud roar?  Is that anal of me?

Damn!  Ms. Pooper Potter has to Board the Continental / United broom now!  I don’t even have time to bitch about the merger!  WHY CONTINENTAL?  WHY???!!  I liked you before!!!  NO!  NO!  NOT UNITED!  THEY SU-U-U-UCK!

Okay Linda,  get mellow.  You are heading to Oregon to frolic amongst the hippies, sleep in a yurt and shit in the woods.  Hope a tree does not have it’s revenge by falling on me for slaughtering their family.  Kakarma!

Hmm.  I think I sense a Travel Blog Series!

Let me slip in one more gripe before they close the gate!!  3 words.  Airplane Bathrooms.  EW!


1 Response to “Anal in the Airport – EW!”

  1. September 4, 2011 at 5:50 PM

    If the bear shits in the woods would the Pope hear it? Thats a condensed thought in mixed cliche format.

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