Two large elderly Moroccan women fast asleep in the two seats next to me; slumped, snoring and out to it. The contents of my bladder steadily increasing and the toilet becoming less of an option and more of an immediate necessity.
With a tiny square of arm rest in between them my only spot to break up the stretch, I made it to the aisle successfully (with success measured in terms of their ignorance to my departure).
Making it back with an empty bladder I once again managed to climb over them as I squashed myself between the seats as well as bending low for the roof and managed to allow their heavy breathing to continue.
Once in place, glancing across to the aisle opposite I got a thumbs up and a cheeky smile from the Moroccan man observing.
No more liquid until I land.
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