Though I’ve lived in the Pacific and Mountain time zones for the last 12 years, my DNA is purely East Coast. I’m more than willing to be a Good Samaritan, but certainly not at the expense of my own convenience. As you can see from this photo, I’m sitting in LAX, staring at the gate from which my flight to Denver has recently departed.

Departed…..sans moi….as you may have surmised.

So what went wrong, Mitch? Overslept from a hangover? Nope. Too much LA traffic? Not at all, the cab ride from Santa Monica went like clockwork. Long security line? Ut ah, buzzed right through. So why aren’t you writing this at 40,000 feet, Mitch? Well…let me tell you.

You gals take WAY too long in the bathroom. As a husband to 1 wife, and a father to 2 girls, and an owner of 1 femi-canine–waiting on, coordinating, planning for, and enduring bathroom activity has become an all-encompassing aspect of my life. Usually, however, women sitting next to me at the airport don’t effect me in this regard. Usually.

As my Southwest flight began its cattle-call boarding process, being a high number in group C, I knew I’d be looking at a sweet middle seat in the back of the plane to squeeze my 6′ 1″, 220 lbs frame into–so I displayed zero urgency in hopping aboard.

Now, I’m no road-warrior, but I’m a pretty frequent and savvy traveler–I’ve got status on the that big gray airline that dominates Terminal B at DIA. I know how to board a plane. I’m NEVER that clueless dork that actually misses flights–well maybe never is a word I can no longer use.

I won’t get into the details of my good deed in order to protect the innocent, but the facts are such: 1) A stranger asked for some help, 2) I obliged, 3) I had, seemingly, enough time to perform said assistance 4) A woman spending an inordinate amount of time in a bathroom led directly to my seat being handed over to some other lucky traveler.

It’s too long and weird of a story to get into all the details, but suffice is to say, I was not pleased at the result. In her defense, the woman in question was horrified at the situation and even offered to pay for my ticket (which, of course, I refused). She continually harassed me with apologies until I finally got eye to eye with her, insisted she smile, and told her if she didn’t let it go I was going to get TSA to put her on the watch list. All kidding aside, she was very sweet and is most likely torturing her fellow passengers on her flight to San Francisco as I type. I’m sure that entire plane is aware of her sincere sorrow.

Am I a hero? Please. Am I a nice guy? Sometimes. Am I anxious to get home? Hell yes. I haven’t seen my girls since Wednesday and I miss them. And I miss dealing with all their bathroom needs. Because I am man and man’s penance for being born with inherent bathroom conveniences is to marry and have daughters and deal with their inherent bathroom inconveniences. It’s the Yin and Yang of pee-pee. And those forces keep the world spinning.

Besides, this isn’t so bad. The eye candy at LAX is pretty solid. I think Carmen Electra just passed by. I’ll see you all at DIA in five or six more hours.

Carmen…..Hey Carmen….Can I have your autograph?

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