Planes, Trains and Buttholes

To say I am a nervous flyer, would be an understatement. Sometimes I get nervous just seeing those death cans flying through the sky. “WATCH OUT BITCHEZ, YOU GONNA FALL OUT THE SKY, DAWGS! THIS IS JUST WHAT THE AMISH WARNED US ABOUT!!!”

Watch out!

So with that mental painting,  it was during a trip to Chicago that something so awesome happened that it filled the majority of my flight with laughter instead of boyfriend-ball-grabbing-to-stabilize-the-plane fear.

It’s a fact, JACK!

We arrived at the airport terminal. (Side note: I wish they didn’t call them “terminals” – it sounds way too dead! Help me keep hope alive, airport designers!) As always, I was nervous as shiz so I decided to use the bathroom for the 300th time in the two hours we had been at the airport.  I left my lover at the gate with my Auntie Anne’s pretzel sedative. (It’s mainly for my glaucoma, and I have a prescription.) When I got to the bathroom, the line was out the door – 20 people, easy. So I waited. I noticed that a woman who had been walking by our gate earlier was in the handful of people immediately in front of me. I remembered her because she was wearing the craziest shoes, bright azz yellow pants, and a weird top. Totally couture-esque items. A very odd ensemble for an afternoon at the airport. I noticed her immediately because she could barely walk in her odd wedge shoes, and her high-heel wobble -walk was very distinctive. Cut two, she’s 5 people in front of me in the bathroom line. I could only see the back of her and the lights were those weird bluish halogen ones in the silver can… they’re like light but not very bright at all, so I kept adjusting my eyes at what I was seeing. Her pants, bright-azz pineapple colored pants, did not appear to cover her butt. The waist came to right below what seemed to be a few inches of her butt crease. Her shirt, pirate-like, flowy and lower in the front than the back – did not compensate for the foot of back-ass gap. She was a very dark color and it was shadowy in the bathroom – so where her skin was, I found myself starring at it like one of those 3d images where you have to relax your eyes to see the image.

Stare at the center for a moment, then move your view slightly and the colors will appear to wiggle around…

“Is this fatback? Is this butt top? Is it a dolphin leaping in front of Saturn?”, I pondered. Then, Pineappley Cruize bent over. And I saw it. Her butthole. As in, the pants were so tight it was pressing her buttcheeks apart and up, and her butthole – or should I say butt-whole was exposed. I couldn’t believe that I was seeing what I was seeing. I blinked. I focused. I blinked. I wondered if I had had a mental break from the stress of flying… I tapped the shoulder of the woman in front of me. She and her baby were both in a stone-faced stare in the direction of The Booty. I needed confirmation.

“Excuse me, is that her…”

“Yep. That’s her a-hole. Just out there. I wish I’d never tried to figure out what it was because I stared right into it.”

I started giggling. A lot. I looked around for anyone else that may be wondering if it was her butthole too. I totally OMG Cat-ted. They were ALL wondering. I was hoping we could all break out in high fives about our discovery, like any good 80’s movie would have done, but I settled for validating head nods. Outside, I did my best to remain calm… but inside – inside I was going all Tom Cruise on Oprah’s couch announcing her exposed buttonhole to the world! When I finally made it back to my lover at the gate, he could not believe what he was hearing. Mainly because only every other word was audible amidst my fits of laughter. On a side note, to this day, bish doesn’t know that I know he ate my pretzel during the chocolate starfish distraction. But I do know that shiz. I KNOW IT!

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