Memoirs of An Arsehole

"Let's do this! Let's join the club!" Mitchell spoke with great excitement as he continued his explanation. "I'll take the lead. I'll head to the lavatories at the back of the plane first, then you follow me in 3 minutes. Three knocks on the door, and I shall grant you entry. Try to be inconspicuous, you know – ninja mode, under the radar." With that, Mitchell released his seatbelt extension (a somewhat necessary accessory these days). He began his determined trek towards the back of the plane, knowing that a long-awaited item on his bucket list was about to be triumphantly checked off. Elizabeth Dolores Smith lost her patience after only two minutes. She could wait no longer. She turned her eyes toward Rachael, who continued to ignore everything around her while watching the movie about murderous spouses. Betty released her seatbelt with a quick motion of her hand. Then, attempting to be as inconspicuous as one can be whilst sporting her signature leopard-print leotard, she rose from her seat and made her way towards the rear of the aircraft, ready to star in "Snakes on a Plane, Part Deux". Betty moved to the rear of the aircraft as her heart pounded with nervous excitement. She remained near the lavatory entrance as she thought about all the bragging rights she would have later. On the other side of that flimsy door, she would be transformed, inducted into the elite ranks of the Mile High Club. She couldn't wait to regale Tracey with every sordid detail – knowing full well that this was a lifelong ambition of Tracey's (though undoubtedly not with Mitchell, and certainly not within the cramped confines of an EasyJet lavatory). She had her hand ready to perform the scheduled three-knock signal when Clifford, the flight attendant with strong perfume, appeared suddenly from behind the right curtain. Betty interrupted her knocking attempt when she raised her hand because she turned the action into a fake stretching motion while Clifford walked by. She attempted to conceal her mischievous gaze by striking a yoga pose, but she feared he might have seen through her. Betty became confused for a brief instant after meeting Clifford before she lifted her arm to perform the agreed three-knock sequence. A quick realisation entered her mind, causing her to pause for a moment. There weren't just one, but two lavatories situated at the rear of this particular aircraft. A wave of mild panic washed over her. Which one? Which one harboured her amorous Mitchell and their impending Mile High adventure? She didn’t know which one; she couldn’t exactly ask the audience, so she was left with 50/50. Betty handed the three-knock code to the lavatory door number one as her nervousness grew. The response was immediate and decidedly unwelcome. A torrent of colourful, albeit highly abusive, language erupted from within, delivered in a thick, unmistakable Scottish brogue. Unless Mitchell had suddenly decided to drastically amp up his role-playing game with an impromptu impersonation of Groundskeeper Willie, Betty deduced that her amorous husband was most certainly not behind door number one. Disappointment momentarily flickered across her face, quickly replaced by a renewed sense of determination. She moved toward the second bathroom entrance as fresh butterflies began to dance inside her stomach. She experienced the same level of anxiety that she had on her wedding day at the Barking and Dagenham Register Office, which seemed to carry less legal risk, according to her. Giving one last, furtive glance down the aeroplane aisle to ensure the coast was clear of any nosy passengers or overly inquisitive flight attendants, she excitedly knocked three times on the door. The door number two lock produced a loud thunk sound when it turned, which caused the "Occupied" sign to change to a green "Vacant" indicator. The door swung open, and with a mischievous grin, Betty was pulled inside, disappearing into her very own airborne love dungeon – or, as it was more commonly known, toilet number two on EasyJet flight EZY402. The green Vacant light immediately turned into the attractive red Occupied light. The Mile High Club initiation was officially underway. Inside the cramped cubicle, space was at a premium; there certainly wasn't enough room to swing a cat, though that particular activity wasn't exactly on the agenda for the current occupants. Within mere seconds, Betty's flamboyant leopard-print leotard and matching underwear were discarded in a vibrant heap on the floor, nestled unceremoniously in the corner. Mitchell grabbed Betty in a fast motion while his grey tracksuit pants and Y-fronts dropped to his ankles like two useless life jackets. He carefully placed her on the somewhat unstable vanity unit. Betty silently expressed her gratitude to the universe and her dedication to yoga practice, which maintained her flexibility. She created two entirely new positions inside the small bathroom space, which might not be physically possible for the human body. Betty lost control of her head movement, which resulted in a mirror collision behind her during her intense emotional state. To her dismay, she felt a sharp tug; her hair had somehow become entangled in a narrow gap between the edge of the mirror and the wall. Carefully, she kept her head angled back, desperately trying to avoid yanking out a fistful of precious strands. Mitchell attacked her with the same force that Hercules used to destroy Rachael's left shoe, which became a family story. Their aerial escapade sounds probably blended with the aircraft engines and ventilation system noises. The Mile High Club initiation was in full, slightly chaotic swing. The pilot announced through the PA system that turbulence would soon affect the flight. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts." "Not 'til I'm finished here!"Mitchell focused entirely on his work as he produced a loud, joyful sound. A sudden loud knock stopped him from reaching the last performance. Mitchell gestured to Betty for silence, his expression showing obvious annoyance. "Yes?"His words expressed both anger and frustration.