Why I don’t have to use airplane bathrooms . . .
About an hour into the flight, my wife resisted her urge to use the facilities to avoid waking the sleeping guy. Instead, she grumbled on about her frequent need to ‘do number two’ during flights and my lack of such need. After eating our airline lunch, the man awakened and my wife slipped by him to do her duty.
While she was gone, I noticed that dessert was a Baby Ruth candy bar, a delectable little log of chocolate. I anticipated her coming question, unwrapped the bar, and hid it in the palm of my hand. As expected, my wife returned relieved but still mystified by my airborn bowel control. "Why is it that you never have to use airplane bathrooms?" she blurted. My answer rolled lazily toward my unfurled fingers; the Baby Ruth spoke for itself.
