Stories by Louis Urbanowski

‘Why isn’t it painted like a cop car?’ Rick, as always, got hung up on pointless detail.

Oscar rubbed his trousers flat, disembarking. ‘It’s a baggage buggy sir, we just hop on the nearest one whenever we get the call.’ Holding a solitary finger up to the passenger, he grabbed at the walkie strapped to his shoulder and gave it a quick buzz. Static crackled out, standard operating procedure when arriving at the scene. 

Oscar looked up and down the stout hallway of the departures lounge at Bangor International, and concluded that scene was strong, it suggested action. It was a call to a public restroom, for christ sake, on a quiet Tuesday afternoon. 

‘What seems to be the matter, Mister….’

‘Rick. Mister Rick Bangs. Like I told that pretty plane lady over there, my slow-ass Wife went in to piss twenty minutes ago and hasn’t come out.’ The words were heavy, colliding into one another. Oscar suspected wherever this man was going, alcohol was coming along for the trip.

‘Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear.’ Said a well dressed man, in the seating area close-by. Slapping his thighs as he stood. ‘Did you say your wife went in twenty minutes ago?’

Rick gave him the side-eye, pushing his tongue around his mouth before hocking up a glob of spit into a bin, ‘Yep, what’s it to you?’ 

The well dressed man sprang into action. Shaking both Oscar and Rick’s hands as if there was a time limit on polite introduction. Oscar noticed a great plum coloured welt on his hand as he shook. 

‘Graham Green, M.D, my significant other and I are travelling to California for a conference I’m speaking at.’ 

‘Sorry sir, what does this have to–’ Oscar said.

He pointed at the bathroom. ‘She’s been in there for ten minutes, I thought nothing of it. You know what women are like. I was catching up on a journal over there in my own little world. But then I overheard you…’

Oscar looked at the M.D, then back to the drunk. In a decade at the airport, he could count on one hand the calls that could even contest the label of interesting. 

Of course there was the curious toddler, scooped up into a baggage carousel, minutes away from a visit to Cairo. And who could forget when the indie wrestling company put on an impromptu show at security. Tables, scanners and chairs, they called it. 

The two women and the toilet, didn’t have quite the same ring to it, but it had been a slow day, fuck it week, hell, a life, if we were keeping score.

This was something at least, and Oscar took his time with the rare chance for a performance.

He stuck out one arm, whilst the other grabbed onto the walkie again. ‘Command, this is Office Padia, we have two female passengers missing, last seen in Gate 3’s public restroom.’

A voice hissed back, disinterested. ‘Okay. Copy Angela.’ 

‘Who the fuck is Angela?’ Rick asked.

Oscar pulled a face, ‘wrong frequency, always happens, probably another call.’ He steadied himself, shot a look to both Graham and Rick. ‘Going in.’

You had to get your kicks where you could, right? Who was to deny Oscar a little fun. 

He approached the door, and affected a commanding voice, ‘Ladies, I’m Office Oscar Padia, and I’m coming in. I’ll cover my eyes in case you’re indecent. This is a welfare check.’ 

He entered. 

Graham Green was taken by the Officer’s professionalism as he stood fiddling with his hands. Glancing down, the bruising was noticeable, the pain constant. At the same time, standing next to him, Rick Bangs thought the Officer smacked of closeted homosexual. He craned his neck down the hall to see if he had missed a bar hidden away around here.

After a few seconds, it was Graham who spoke first. ‘Wonder what’s going on in there?’

‘Women troubles. I tell Lindsey I’m going to get a diaper and just plug her all up if she can’t stop pissing.’

Graham found the response confusing, so tried to change the subject as easy as a new breeze.

‘So where are you headed, friend?’

‘You coming on to me?’ 

‘No, no, nothing like that. My Wife is in there, Susan, see.’ He waved his bruised hand at Rick, flashing his wedding band.

‘Plenty of married people can be gay fella, look at Elton John or Obama. Besides what you do to your hand? Looks nasty.’

Graham winced, partly due to Rick’s response, partly due to the blood flow in his hand. ‘Susan and I were preparing some dinner last night. Silly accident you know. I was distracted by my keynote speech, I’m speaking at the conference.’

‘Yeah you said…’

The turgid conversation, and the throbbing in Graham’s hand, forced his in the end. ‘This is ridiculous, I’m going to go in there.’

‘You some sorta pervert?’ Rick scoffed back at him.

Ignoring him, Graham Green approached the door and pushed on it gently, so it opened a crack.

Screams. Definite and audible screams were coming from within the bathroom. Rick’s eyes went wide, and Graham let out a short sharp yelp of surprise before letting the door close.

‘What the fuck was that?’ Rick shouted. 

‘Screams, did you recognise your wife?’

‘The fuck you mean, recognise my wife, it was a scream you idiot. Besides, one of them sounded like a man didn’t it?’

Graham didn’t want to point out Rick’s self-contradiction so didn’t.

‘You going in then or what?’ Rick pointed a finger at the Doctor. 

‘Okay, just give me a second to compose myself.’ 

‘Pussy.’ Rick sneered, and barged forward about to do it himself. 

It was then that another baggage buggy chuntered along, stopping next to the first, close to the pair of men loitering outside the restroom. 

On it were three women, all dressed up, like air stewardesses but without the pinstriped epaulets or branding. They paid no notice of the men.

‘Excuse me, ladies?’ Graham spoke, ‘Our wives are in there with a security officer, can you tell us when they’re coming out? Our flight is soon.’ 

The lead woman, a red haired beauty, Rick thought to himself, gave a weak smile, but nothing else. The trio of women’s hair swished, as their heels tapped toward the door. One-by-one they entered the restroom, audible for a quick second, that scream once again heard. The two men stood, puzzled, as the door closed and silence resumed.

‘Stuck-up prudes.’ Rick spat. 

‘Now, now, they’re probably just flight crew. They’ll find out what’s going on. They’ll all be out in a second and we can be on our way.’

Except they weren’t. Minutes passed, boarding calls came and went. And no one came out of the bathroom. 

‘Call the police.’ Rick said, a slight sway as he stood.

‘For what?’ Graham replied. ‘People using the bathroom?’

Rick tottered up to Graham and stuck a chubby digit in his chest. ‘Theft, I paid good money for these flights and the dumb bitch is going to make us miss it. Your wife, that security officer, those chicks, they’re all complicit.’ 

‘Relax, relax. Stop causing a scene. I’ll go and get them.’ Graham relented.

Approaching the door again, Graham put a palm against it, but rather than push, he waited. Pulling back after a few seconds.

‘You’re scared aren’t you?’ Rick chuckled.

‘No. I’m a Doctor, a respected one at that. I can’t just go barging into women’s restrooms, imagine the scandal if that’s caught on camera.’

‘Look around Doc, there’s no one around.’ Rick exaggerated a head swivel.

‘Well you go in then!’

‘I’m a man, I’ve got a dick, I got no business going into no women’s restroom. Don’t need an offense on my record.’

Graham rolled his eyes, ‘Oh christ, perfect time for gender politics. What is it, a third strike?’

Rick didn’t answer. 

‘And I’m the scared one…’ Graham couldn’t resist.

Stalemate reached, time ticked on. Final calls came. Angela for Gate 3, Sanchez for Gate 4. Rick met each call for his own flight with new and inventive cursing. Graham however, was a man of manners, so his flight’s departure merited only a quiet and respectful tutting alongside a drum of his fingers on the wall as he propped against it. 

‘I reckon it’s been an hour Doc, an hour since six people have gone into that bathroom and no one has come out.’

‘Where is everyone?’ Graham asked. 

‘In the bathroom…gee you’re not real smart for a Doctor.’ Rick laughed.

‘No, not that. Look.’ Graham pointed around the departure lounge. It was quiet, far quieter than an international airport should be. Even the announcements over the tannoys had ceased. 

‘Maybe they’re done for the day.’ Rick said with a shrug. 

‘That’s not how airports work, certainly not in the afternoon.’ 

Graham kept looking, if he could find a member of staff, even another security officer he could flag it. Ask them to barge in and wrap all this up. The silliness had gone on long enough, a short rebuke of Susan and then just book the next flight tomorrow. Sure he’d miss drinks with the consultants from Denver, but he could make it all up on the golf course over the weekend. 

Rick meanwhile was starting to feel the reality of life, as the alcohol diluted in his blood. A horrible purgatory where the singular goal of finding another drink has to share space with grown-up considerations like can I afford my rent this month, and do I even want Lindsey to have this baby?

 ‘Damn it, let’s go in together. It’s not weird if we do that, and we can back each other up.’ Graham said. 

‘Yeah, strength in fucking numbers.’ Rick nodded, trying to shake away his hangover. 

The pair were about to do it too, but found themselves interrupted by the arrival of a third baggage buggy. This time occupied by a man and a woman, both middle aged and suited, holding clipboards. 

Just like the others, they pulled up alongside the men and disembarked. Three buggies, two husbands, and a man and a woman outside the restroom. It was the woman who spoke first. She was tall, and not as pretty as the trio before, but probably prettier than Lindsey, thought Rick. 

‘Mr Bangs. I understand you’ve missed a flight today due to an inconvenience.’

‘You’re damn right!’ Rick said. 

‘And as such, in my role as Airport Coordinator, I’d like to offer you some compensation. Could you kindly follow me to the desk of Gate Four down there,’ she pointed further along the hall, ‘so we can complete some paperwork?’ 

Rick tutted, looking at the distance, as if it was asking him to run a marathon. ‘If I can drive the buggy.’ 

‘I’ll drive, but you can definitely ride shotgun.’ The woman spoke with a big smile on her face.

‘Fine,’ replied Rick, and at that they both got on the buggy and bobbed their way over the rough carpet toward Gate Four. 

‘And what about me?’ Graham spoke as the pair disappeared into the distance, a pair of stick figures now by the time they came to a stop.

The man, a small stout potato looking gentleman stood forward.

‘Yes of course Mr Green, I need to check on what’s happening in there and then I’m all yours. Please wait right there, best for you to not come in.’ 

With that the man entered the bathroom as if gliding, the door opened for just a second, the scream audible again. And then it was just Graham Green, two buggies, and a door he couldn’t, no he wouldn’t enter.

He found himself getting angry. The irritation coursing through him, his hand itching, the bruise throbbing with every beat of his heart. He closed his eyes for a second and drew a deep breath. When he opened them he looked down the hall to Gate Four, to see how Rick was getting on, but he wasn’t there. 

Turning back, Graham thought about Susan and about last night. He examined his hand, the wedding band was pinching now, on account of the swelling. There was also a pressure in his ears, snaking across his jaw, stress building up when he should already be relaxed on the flight, with a drink in hand.

He shuffled where he stood, and paced around in a small circle. Coming to a stop, he found himself looking at the wall that ran down the side of the restroom. That’s when he saw it. That name stuck out like a sore thumb.

A dog-eared tatty old poster, three sides still stuck to the wall, as the light tickle of air conditioning wrestled with the fourth. 

He approached it, and as he read, a cold sweat started to break out. All he could think about was his hand, and the night before. She deserved it, she asked for it, he needed to make sure his speech was perfect, don’t fucking interrupt a Doctor. 

Bit by bit, the highly intelligent, extremely logical Physician started to put it all together. 

#Ask For Angela 

Are you in a toxic, abusive relationship? 

Do you feel like you’re not in a safe situation? 

If so use this bathroom, pick up the phone inside, and Ask for Angela.

The Airport Staff will know what to do and take care of it. 

We will distract and discourage anyone inappropriate from entering and offer you safe haven until the situation is resolved. 

We want you to feel safe. #Ask for Angela. 

Graham turned on his heels and started to walk away, toward the exit.

In the distance, from either end, more baggage buggies approached. 

By Louis Urbanowski – Inspired by the story that Stephen King couldn’t finish: ‘People at the airport keep going into the toilet and not coming out. Finish the story’