HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS

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I'm a sophomore at UCLA, and my sister Kelly is a freshman.  In
December, we flew home to Atlanta for the Christmas break.  Kelly is five
feet two inches with short blond hair.  She's never enjoyed flying much,
and is ususally very nervous on board a plane.

 The trip from Los Angeles to Atlanta is a long, often unpleasant
trip.  We had to change planes in Dallas, and the Dallas airport is large,
complicated, difficult to navigate, and extremely busy during the holiday
season.

 The flight from LA to Atlanta left forty minutes late, but was
otherwise  uneventful.  To my surprise, Kelly slept through most of it.
During the last hour, she seemed relaxed and comfortable.  Her mistake was
having two Cokes with lunch and two cups of coffee afterward.  "I have to
pee," she muttered, climbing over me.  She then stood in the aisle with a
look of consternation on her face.  The food cart was blocking her way to
the bathroom.  She turned around and looked up the aisle.  The flight
attendant was headed toward her.  "Is there another bathroom up front?"
Kelly asked.  "No, that one's only for first class," the woman responded.
"We'll have the cart out of the way in a few minutes.  You may be able to
slide by in one of the empty seats."  I looked down the aisle.  Four people
were waiting for the bathrooms already.  Kelly gave up, climbed back over
me, and sat down.  There were only about twenty minutes left to the flight.

 Ten minutes passed, and Kelly looked over her shoulder toward the
bathrooms.  The aisle was now clear, but two people were still waiting in
line.  Kelly began to unbuckle her seat belt.  As I scrunched up my legs to
let her climb over me again, the pilot's voice crackled over the speaker,
and the seat belt sign came on.  The pilot announced that we would be
landing shortly, and asked everyone to return to their seat.  Kelly swore
under her breath, buckled her seat belt again, and reached under the seat
for her jacket and purse.  She took out a pack of gum.

 "Oh, well," I said, giggling.  Kelly looked at me, trying not to
laugh.  "Shut up," she said.  "It's not your bladder that's getting
stretched out of shape."  She giggled a bit.  I wondered if she would make
it to the bathroom after we landed.  I knew there would be a delay in
getting to the gate at the Dallas airport, and they don't let you get out
of your seat while the plane is waiting on the runway.

 "Are you going to be okay?"  I asked her.
 "Yeah, I'm fine."

 I looked down the aisle, and saw the flight attendants buckling in
for the landing.  The last person was leaving the bathroom, and I could
feel the plane beginning to descend.  Too late now for sure.

 The landing was a bit rough, and I saw Kelly grimace as we hit the
ground.  It couldn't have been very comfortable for her.

 "A bit bumpy on the bladder?" I teased her.
 "Shut UP!" she said, giggling and turning red.  "I've got a much
stronger bladder than you do anyway.  Remember that time at the football
game? You were bouncing up and down like a yo-yo!"
 "Yeah, but there was a long line."
 "Yeah, right.  What about the trip to Sacramento?  You had an
accident in the car!"
 "I did not!"
 "You did too!  I saw your skirt was when you got out!  I just
didn't say anything 'cause we were with Rick and Marty."
 "You're full of shit!  I didn't have an accident.  I just said I
had to go really bad."
 "You went in your pants and you know it!"  Kelly laughed out loud
and crossed her legs.  The guy across the aisle from me was looking at us.
I was beginning to wish I hadn't started this conversation.

 The plane finally docked at the gate, and the pilot turned off the
seat belt sign.  Of course the aisle was immediately jammed with people
trying to get their luggage out of the overhead compartments, and Kelly and
I couldn't even get out of our seats.  It was obvious that she wasn't
getting into the bathroom very quickly.

 We stood waiting to get into the aisle, and Kelly fidgeted,
shifting from one foot to the other.  The flight attendant was announcing
the gates for connecting flights.  I listened for our flight to Atlanta,
but either I missed it or she didn't mention it.  Finally the line began to
move, and Kelly and I reached for our bags.  The line, of course, was
moving OUT of the plane, and there was no possible way for Kelly to get to
the bathroom in back.  She was ahead of me now, and I wondered if she would
try to use the bathroom in first class.  She didn't.  We headed down the
ramp into the airport.

 I approached the attendant standing nearby and asked about our
flight to Atlanta.  He consulted a notepad, and looked at his watch.

 "It's Gate B7," he said.  "Down to the end of this walkway and to
your right.  You better hurry.  You've only got about ten minutes, and it's
quite a ways."

 Then it hit me:  the plane had been 40 minutes late in leaving LA.
We were supposed to have a one hour layover in Dallas, but now we were in
danger of missing the connection.  This is going to be rich, I thought.
We're racing through an airport, and Kelly has to pee.

 "Let's go," I said.  We headed down the walkway.  The airport was
packed, and we had to zigzag through the crowd.

 "Vicki, I need to pee," Kelly moaned.  I noticed a restroom sign on
the left up ahead.

 "Well, hurry up! We only have a few minutes."  Kelly dropped her
bag and rushed into the ladies' room.  I waited outside, and looked at my
watch.  The flight was leaving in eight minutes.  I stood there, silently
cursing my younger sister.

 Kelly emerged from the bathroom almost instantly.  "Forget it.
There's like six people waiting in there."
 "Great.  Let's go!"  We rushed down the walkway toward the large
red sign with the letter B.  We had seven minutes 'til departure.  The
crowd had thinned out a bit, and I started to run.

 "Wait, Vicki! I can't run in these shoes!"  I stopped and stared at
my sister.  She was wearing heavy wooden clogs, and no socks.  She looked
miserable.  She stopped and pulled off her shoes, then ran to catch up to
me.  I took off jogging again toward the gate, with Kelly struggling behind
me.

 She spotted another bathroom.  "Lemmee try here," she panted.  "I
have to pee so bad."  Her face was twisted with pain.

 "We don't have time! We're going to miss this flight for your potty
break!"  I screamed at her.  I was fairly certain that this was the last
flight out for the day.  I really didn't feel like spending the night in an
airport just so my sister could avoid a little discomfort.  By now I had to
pee, too.  But I could wait until we got on the plane.

 Kelly was staring at the entrance to the bathroom.  A yellow sign
blocked the doorway, hanging from a chain.  The bathroom was closed for
cleaning.

 "Come on!"  I yelled at her.  I grabbed her arm, and we sprinted
down the walkway.  I glanced at my watch.  Two minutes.  We reached the
gate sweating, weighed down by our bags, and out of breath.  The ticket
agent was about to close door.

 "Wait, wait!"  We shouted at him.  He stopped and stared at us,
left the door open, and returned to the counter.  As Kelly and I fished
through our purses to find our connecting tickets, the agent stared down at
Kelly's legs.  His face had an curious look to it.  Was she wetting her
pants?  I pulled out my ticket, handed it to him, and looked down at
Kelly's jeans.  Her crotch looked dry.  Then I realized that the agent must
have been looking at her bare feet.  Kelly didn't even notice his stare.

 Kelly shuffled down the ramp carrying her shoes, and we boarded the
plane.  People looked at us as we found our way to our seats.  Some were
visibly annoyed that our last minute arrival was delaying the departure.  I
sat down and slid my bag under the seat.

 Kelly tossed her bag, her purse, her coat and her shoes into her
seat and headed down the aisle to the bathroom.  The flight attendant met
her halfway.
 "Miss, you need to sit down.  The plane is about to take off."
 "Oh, please.  I just need to use the bathroom."
 "I'm sorry, Miss.  You can't be in the bathroom during takeoff."
 The plane was actually backing away from the gate.
 "I'll only be a minute.  Please--I really need to go!"  She sounded
really desperate now.
 "Miss, you need to sit down.  As soon as we're in the air, you can
get up.  Now, please.  I need you to sit down.  This is for your own
safety."

 Kelly whirled around and hustled back to her seat.  "Shit!" she
said softly.  This time she had the aisle seat.  She pushed her stuff onto
the floor and slid into her seat.  "This is bullshit," she muttered as she
buckled the seat belt.  She glanced over her shoulder at the flight
attendant.  "Fucking bitch."

 She crossed her left leg and tucked it under her right leg.  I
glanced down at her crotch and her legs.  The soles of her feet were dirty
from running through the airport with no shoes on.  Her jeans were dry, but
I wondered if she had wet her panties.  Would she make it through the
takeoff?

 The plane taxied down the runway slowly, and then came to a stop
gently.  The pilot came on the speaker and announced that there would be a
brief delay because one plane was ahead of us on the runway.

 "Oh, Jesus Christ!"  Kelly moaned.
 "Are you okay?" I asked.
 "No, I'm not okay!  I'm about to pee in my pants!"
   "No you're not.  Just hang on.  We'll be up in a few minutes."  I
was starting to feel sorry for her.  I held her hand and squeezed it
lightly.  Her palms were sweaty.  She crossed her legs, then uncrossed them
and tucked her right leg underneath again.  She sat back and closed her
eyes.  The plane was finally taking off.

 Kelly tensed suddenly and squeezed my hand hard.  "Oh, my God," she
whispered, and looked down at her lap.  A small wet spot appeared in the
seam of her crotch.  Her lower lip was quivering.

 "Shhhhh! Just hold on, Kelly.  You're almost there!  Take a deep
breath, and think about something else."
 "I can't!  I can't help it!  Oh, Jesuuus, Nooo..."

 I looked at her lap.  The wet spot did not appear to be growing.
She had released enough pressure, I figured, that she could now make it to
the toilet.  Kelly closed her eyes again, and rested her head on the back
of the seat.  The plane climbed rapidly and levelled off.  The seat belt
sign went out.

 "C'mon, let's go! I have to pee too!" I said, getting up.
 "I'm going first!" she snipped at me, struggling out of her seat.
 "Okay, okay, go ahead," I said.

 We headed down the aisle, but two other people had beaten us to the
bathroom.  The flight attendant was opening the door for an older guy, and
a girl who looked like she was about fifteen was standing behind him.

 "This is incredible," Kelly sputtered. "I can't believe this is
happening."  We lined up behind the girl, and Kelly asked the attendant if
the plane had another bathroom.  The woman looked down at Kelly's crotch.
No, she said, this was the only one.  She seemed to be holding back a
smile.  The girl ahead of us looked at Kelly and shrugged.

 Kelly shifted nervously from one leg to the other, biting her lip.
We waited about five minutes.  Inside the bathroom, I could hear the guy
getting up and zipping up his fly.  He turned on the faucet, and I heard
water splashing as he washed his hands.

 "Oh, my God," Kelly said out loud.  She squeezed her legs together
and looked down at her jeans.  The wet spot was growing quickly.  "Oh, my
God, No, pleeeease!" she cried.  Kelly now had a large dark patch in her
crotch.  The stewardess and the girl both looked at her.  The wetness was
spreading fast, with small lines trickling down the legs of her Levis.
Kelly stared down at her pants, her lower lip quivering rapidly.

 I put my hand on her shoulder.  "It's okay, Kelly.  You're okay."
But she wasn't okay.  Kelly had lost all control.  Pee was seeping out the
bottom of her jeans now, pooling around her bare feet.  Kelly's face had
turned bright red, and she began to cry.   The fifteen year old girl was
staring at her, covering her mouth with her hand, barely able to keep from
laughing.  People on the plane had begun to turn around to see what was
going on.

 The door to the bathroom unlatched.  The flight attendant took a
small step forward, and spoke to the girl.
 "Could you let her get in there first?  She really needs to get in
there fast."
 "Sure."
 "Thank you," Kelly stammered, not looking up.

 The guy came out of the bathroom.  He looked like he was about 90
years old.  He shuffled past us slowly, oblivious to the spectacle that had
unfolded while he was moving his bowels.  Kelly limped into the bathroom,
still staring down at her crotch.  The stewardess touched Kelly's shoulder.
"I'll see if I can find you some towels," she said to her.  Kelly didn't
answer.  The bathroom door locked, and I could hear Kelly crying softly
inside.

 The flight attendant headed off toward the kitchen.  The girl
looked down at the floor where Kelly's pee had soaked into the carpet.
"She's probably going to be in there for a while," the girl said.  But she
wasn't really talking to me.  Another woman was standing behind me, also
waiting for the bathroom.

 "What's wrong? Is she sick?"
 "Welll... sort of...  She kind of had an accident."
 "An accident?"  The woman looked at us blankly.  The girl looked at
me, then back at the woman.
 "She wet her pants," the girl said finally.
 "Oh, no," the woman said quietly.  She was about thirty, with long
black hair.  "That happened to me once on the subway."

 The stewardess came back with a couple of cloth dish towels, and
tapped on the door to the bathroom.  After a moment Kelly opened the door a
crack.  She had pulled her jeans up, but hadn't zipped them.  I could see
her white panties soaked with pee behind the zipper.  Her face was stained
with tears, and her makeup had run.  The stewardess handed her the towels.
"I'm really sorry.  Are you okay?"
 "Yeah, I'll be all right," Kelly said quietly.  She closed and
locked the door again.

 The stewardess asked me if we were together, and I said yes.
 "Does she have any clothes she can change into?"
 I had already thought of that.  But Kelly's carry-on bag had
nothing but magazines, makeup, and a Walkman.  Everthing else was in her
suitcase, which had been checked.
 "Does she have this problem a lot?" the attendant asked me.
 "No, not really," I said.  I explained how Kelly had been holding
it for nearly two hours, and how she hadn't had time to go in the airport.

 Kelly finally came out of the bathroom, and handed the towels to
the flight attendant.  She had cleaned the makeup off her face.  She looked
a bit better and more relaxed.

 "You all right?" I asked gently.
 "I guess... as all right as I can be."

 I walked back to her seat with her, and the fifteen year old went
into the bathroom.  The flight attendant followed us.

 "Let me get you a blanket.  That may make you a bit more comfortable."
Kelly didn't answer.  Kelly sat down, and I told her that I still needed to
go.  I headed back to the bathroom, feeling a bit more urgency now.  The
girl was coming out, and the other woman let me go first.  When I returned
to my seat, Kelly had a blanket covering her lap.  She had tucked her left
leg under her right again, and she was still in her bare feet.  I noticed
that the pee had cleaned most of the dirt off of her feet.

 She giggled as I climbed over her.

 "Do you think this'll dry by the time we land?"
 "No way.  We'll be there in less than half an hour."
 She giggled again.
 "What do you think Marty's going to say?"
 I hadn't thought that far ahead.  Kelly was talking about her
boyfriend, who was picking us up at the airport.
 "Oh, geez.  Maybe you can change in the airport after you get your
suitcase."  I was starting to laugh now.
 "No.  He's meeting us at the gate."
 "Oh, God. Are you serious?"
 She giggled some more.

 When we got off the plane, her jeans were still soaking wet, of
course.  And Marty was there, all smiles, waiting for her.  When he saw her
jeans, his mouth dropped open.

 As we walked to the baggage claim, Kelly told him what happened,
giggling all the way through it.  Marty couldn't take his eyes off her
crotch.

 Kelly did in fact change her clothes in the airport restroom after
she picked up her bag.  In the car, Marty quizzed her extensively about the
accident, wanting to know all the details, such as how the stewardess
reacted.  He hung on every word of the story, and continued to stare at her
crotch, even though she was now wearing clean pants.

 Marty dropped me off at our parents' house, and then took Kelly
over to his place.  What happened there, only Kelly knows.

 But on the trip back to LA, Kelly didn't drink any coffee.