DON'T EAT THE BROWN SNOW

I have a thing for airports and aviation in general. IND, Indianapolis International Airport is a beauty.
In about 2 weeks this place will be packed with lucky Superbowl attendees.  Jojo dropped me off before 6:00 AM for my 7:30 flight, I'm sure she was thrilled about getting up at 5 instead of her usual 8ish. 
I'm on a 737 sitting on the leading edge of the wing right next to a beast of an engine. The sound of the compressors spooling up always gives me a rush. I'm sitting by a window on the right side of the plane by design, although I will miss seeing the sun rise, I will also miss the sun shinning on me the entire flight to FT Myers. There will be plenty of time for the sun once I reach Florida. The flight is booked solid so me and my 56 year old bladder will be stuck against the window for the next 2 + hours. That should be no problem, I'm really proud of my bladder this morning. It's doing a fine job today, it's a credit to the organ family. 
The colon on the other hand has been causing a ruckus the
past few days. Jojo was kind enough to share her stomach flu with me this week. I missed work Wed and Thur.  
I know you have all had this ailment before so I shall spare you the gory details. Suffice it to say that during this episode the colon is an attention seeking asshole. Although this is the 24 hour variety I'm still experiencing remnants of this bug. I guess the colon wants me to know it's still in charge. 
This malady at this airport reminds me of a similar event that happened here a few years ago only that time I was arriving at IND, not departing. 
(Que the flashback montage)
Me and bro-in-law Bobby were poolside one morning at their
FT Myers condo. I was relaxing in the hot tub and that queazy feeling hit me, I hoped in vain that it would pass.  What passed was everything but the queasiness. For the next day and a half it was like Linda Blair at one end and an Obama speech coming  out the other, mostly at the same time. 
Towards the final stages of this holy war on my digestive tract, I was hoping Doctor Kevorkian would do a drop in. 

Towards the end of the trip I was able to keep a little food down and more importantly my beverage of choice, Crown n Coke. The colon however was still having its way with me. 
Bob and me had the same flight home but drove separately. We were parked just a few feet apart and we were so pleased to find our cars covered with 7 inches of snow. We cursed our winter wonderland and began the task of scraping the snow off in the dark of night. Now even though my colon and I were still not on speaking terms, we had worked out a sort of armistice. 
The colon had agreed to evacuate at regular intervals every 3 hours. I had agreed that I would not flachuate unless I was hovering over an appropriate  receptacle. . 

This meant I could perform the necessary function at the FT Myers airport and make it all the way to IND with my non-stop colon. 
When we landed at IND I felt the pressure but time was on my side so I passed up the airport restrooms in favor of the home-field advantage. 
When me and Bob got to our cars I started mine up and began the task of removing the snow. I had left my Jimmy at home for Jojo to use and I had her son's old Pontiac. 
I started the car and cleared off the front half of the car and went to open the door. That's when I found out that there was a GM engineer in Detroit that had a death wish. It seems this jackass thought it wold be funny to make a car that could play a practical joke. This hilarious son of a bitch would let you start the engine then when you get out to remove snow while your colon is about to go critical mass, it would automatically lock you out. 
Houston we have a problem. 

At least Bob was still there so he drove me to an emergency phone in the lot and I was told they had no service to open my door but connected me with a nearby locksmith. He was 40 bucks and 20 to 40 minutes away. The rumble in my lower torso alerted me to the truce I had made with would soon be null and void, voided the key word here. 
My decision to bypass the restroom at the Indy airport had been a clear violation of our peace accord. Bob drive me back around to my nicely warmed and locked car to wait on the locksmith. The pain and psi from my nether region was growing worse, so to distract myself from the impending doom I decided to brush off the back of my car. 
I cleaned off most of the rear when Bob sheepishly said, Hey man, why you cleaning off that guys car?
Yeah the distraction I was under had me cleaning off the snow on a car it the other row, I did a nice job though. 
Now the colon had my full and undivided attention. Driving back to the terminal was not an option. I was afraid the locksmith would come and go. So I waited..... And waited, negotiations with the colon had broken down completely at this point. Jimmy Carter and his Middle East Summit had a better chance then the peace talk I was having with my terroristic colon at this point. 
Now I have to look for options. I ran through several senerios, none of them good. It had been about 20 minutes since my call to the locksmith and he was nowhere in sight. 
Times being what they were I had to act fast. 
The only viable option I could come up with was jump behind a snow pile, which were plentiful and let the colon have its way. Cleanup would consist of using snowballs. Using snowballs as TP had never been tested in the real world to my knowledge, but I 
was in uncharted waters. 

Just then my hero pulled into the lot, he unlocked my door and I threw him 40 big ones plus tip and hit the road. 
Suddenly the homefeild advantage seemed within reach again. 
Alas home was 3o minutes from away, Walmart was 20. 
Sorry Walmart. 
The moral to the story can  best be summed up by the Golden Rule my bladder has always preached to me. 
You never pass up an opportunity to go to the bathroom.