So, I Discover a Man Phone Sexing his Colleagues

The Traveler: 


I got up at Four AM this morning to catch a 6am from Boston to SFO, through ORD. Last night when I made a change to my return, it took away my upgraded seats and dropped me back into coach, and I had to spend a precious system wide VIP upgrade to correct the problem. 


All of this serves to explain what I am not in what laypeople call a “good mood”.  And that should explain what happened next.


The bathroom at the ORD H terminal admirals club is basically shit. It’s your standard airport / bus station bathroom with half height pooper stalls—urinals divided by cellophane, and all that. In otherwords lacking the privacy and refinement a club bathroom should have – and what is common even a train terminal public Loo in the UK. Read: Shithole, but with the expectation of better / cleaner clientele. 


Except that’s a false expectation. What you can expect is cleaner narcissistic corporate assholes with a sense of entitlement and self-importance. 


One such asshole parades into the bathroom trailing an aura of grandiosity and cloud of Drakkar Noir – and oh my gawd talking in a booming voice on his phone. He saunters up to the urinal, whips it out and keeps talking about this or that contract or the Monroe deal or some such nonsense.


Going to the toilette is the one place where even the baddest-ass apex predator can be vulnerable – literally caught with his pants down, as such, among men, talking, looking or basically anything other than doing your business is strictly out of bounds. 


Yet this asshole was disturbing the peace and harmony of pee-pee time… it was so over the top that the guy next to me and I broke rule number 1 and exchanged a glance – like “what is this asshole kidding?”


And that was that.


“JESUS DUDE… DO THE PEOPLE YOU’RE TALKING TO KNOW YOU’RE JACKING OFF?” I say to the guy. Pretty god damned loud. 


He doesn’t realize I’m talking to him, he’s so obsessed with his conversation. So I try again. 


“MASTURBATING” I shout now locking eyes with the drakkar douche. “THIS GUY IS TOTALLY JACKING OFF!” 


He stops. “Hold on Janie…” He can’t cover the handset because he’s talking on one of those corded headset things, which is probably picking me up pretty easily. “What’s the problem here?”


“NO PROBLEM” I shout right in the direction of the microphone. “I JUST WANT TO KNOW IF JANIE KNOWS YOU’RE JACKING OFF WHILE TALKING TO HER.”


“I am not… Janie.. I'm no—“


“YOUR DICK IS IN YOUR HANDS IS IT NOT? AND ANYTHING MORE THAN TWO SHAKES CONSITUTUES AN ACT OF PLEASURE.  IT’S OKAY DUDE, I UNDERSTAND HABITUAL MASTURBATION IS A SICKNESS – I GET IT… “


“Janie let me call you back.” 


“AFTER HE’S DONE JACKING OFF!” I say. 


He hangs up the phone, I turn to leave, but amazingly, he still wants to play.  “What the fuck is your problem?” he demands. Apparently drakkar douche is more accustomed to having his ass kissed than his balls busted. 


This is a careful situation. A person in my situation can’t show any outward signs of aggression. This could get way out of hand easily.  So I stand my grand, but say in a non-threatening voice.


“Rude assholes who act like their whims are the only thing that matters.  Like for example, talking too loud on a phone in the bathroom.”


He takes a step towards me, which is difficult in his situation. I step back. Let the record show I yielded ground. 


“What the fuck gives you the ---“ he takes a labored second step.


I hold up a hand. “Dude. Think about where you are and what you’re doing. With your pants around your ankles and your little wee-wee poking out of your boxers, one more step and you’re pretty much gonna get charged with sexual assault.”