Nepal to London Heathrow
Posted: 16 May 2018, 07:24
Tom had just spent several weeks in Nepal as the leader of a couple of treks through the mountains and over some high passes. The groups had been good, fun people and leading them had ben a joy. He loved the country and the people but now it was a case of returning to London and starting a new life and a steady job as a policeman.
The plane put down in Delhi for an hour or so and then carried on it's way. Tom realised just how tired he was and after taking the airplane meal, a delicious curry he fell into a deep sleep. He was missing nothing. It was night time after all. Tom woke up to daylight and saw it was six am. Then quite suddenly realisation took over from the pleasure of the new day. Bloody hell, asleep he had wet his pants. It was just like he'd wet his bed he supposed, slept on blissfully unaware of what he'd done. His wet trunks were stuck to him and his khaki shorts were plainly wet, wet for anyone to see. He got a faint aroma of what he had done and was thankful the plane was not packed and the seat next to him was unoccupied. It was not the end of his problems though because he had to get up for the toilet and had no intention of doing that in his pants.
He got up carefully and walked to the back of the plane trying to conceal his wet shorts but a couple of passenger noticed and smiled. Thankfully he did what he had to do next and set about making himself more comfortable in his wet clothes, tucking his shirt in properly and smoothing down his soaked trunks and shorts. He saw how wet the seat was as he lowered himself back onto it and he covered his wet shorts with his jumper as breakfast was served.
By the time the plane landed some four hours had passed since his chair wetting and his shorts were drying out well but still had a visible wet stain to be seen by anyone taking more than a glance at him. Three hours and he would be home.
Going through customs he was pulled to one side and taken into a room to be searched. This had happened to him previously at Casablanca and at Dover and whilst he would have liked to think the custom officers thought him so desirable they had to get their hands on him he appreciated that was just a dream. Two guys did the search, a younger man doing the search and an older one watching. There were few questions asked and really it was simply a search. Boredom perhaps. That he had wet himself was not lost on them.
"Pissed your pants then mate?"
"Yes = sorry - I wet in my sleep".
"You mean you wet your bed?"
"I suppose I do. Sorry."
"You do it often?"
"Not for a couple of years."
The older guy intervened and said, "shut up and search him and put your plastic gloves on>"
He undid Tom's shorts and told Tom to drop them and then went through his pockets complaining they were wet and then made him drop his wee wee soaked and stained trunks. More sarcasm followed and Tom having bent over was told to dress and he could carry on his way. He had found it a strange experience but then he had wet himself and perhaps they had thought he wet himself because he was worried about something.
The driver of the Greenline coach noticed the dampness of his shorts but let him on. He made sure he did not fall asleep on the journey home. Whilst Tom still sometimes woke up wet he had never until now wet himself in a public situation where he could not conceal his accident. Whilst mortified at having so public a wetting, if viewed as an experience it must rate quite high. Tom would not rush to do it again but would he worry too much if he did?
Perhaps not!
The plane put down in Delhi for an hour or so and then carried on it's way. Tom realised just how tired he was and after taking the airplane meal, a delicious curry he fell into a deep sleep. He was missing nothing. It was night time after all. Tom woke up to daylight and saw it was six am. Then quite suddenly realisation took over from the pleasure of the new day. Bloody hell, asleep he had wet his pants. It was just like he'd wet his bed he supposed, slept on blissfully unaware of what he'd done. His wet trunks were stuck to him and his khaki shorts were plainly wet, wet for anyone to see. He got a faint aroma of what he had done and was thankful the plane was not packed and the seat next to him was unoccupied. It was not the end of his problems though because he had to get up for the toilet and had no intention of doing that in his pants.
He got up carefully and walked to the back of the plane trying to conceal his wet shorts but a couple of passenger noticed and smiled. Thankfully he did what he had to do next and set about making himself more comfortable in his wet clothes, tucking his shirt in properly and smoothing down his soaked trunks and shorts. He saw how wet the seat was as he lowered himself back onto it and he covered his wet shorts with his jumper as breakfast was served.
By the time the plane landed some four hours had passed since his chair wetting and his shorts were drying out well but still had a visible wet stain to be seen by anyone taking more than a glance at him. Three hours and he would be home.
Going through customs he was pulled to one side and taken into a room to be searched. This had happened to him previously at Casablanca and at Dover and whilst he would have liked to think the custom officers thought him so desirable they had to get their hands on him he appreciated that was just a dream. Two guys did the search, a younger man doing the search and an older one watching. There were few questions asked and really it was simply a search. Boredom perhaps. That he had wet himself was not lost on them.
"Pissed your pants then mate?"
"Yes = sorry - I wet in my sleep".
"You mean you wet your bed?"
"I suppose I do. Sorry."
"You do it often?"
"Not for a couple of years."
The older guy intervened and said, "shut up and search him and put your plastic gloves on>"
He undid Tom's shorts and told Tom to drop them and then went through his pockets complaining they were wet and then made him drop his wee wee soaked and stained trunks. More sarcasm followed and Tom having bent over was told to dress and he could carry on his way. He had found it a strange experience but then he had wet himself and perhaps they had thought he wet himself because he was worried about something.
The driver of the Greenline coach noticed the dampness of his shorts but let him on. He made sure he did not fall asleep on the journey home. Whilst Tom still sometimes woke up wet he had never until now wet himself in a public situation where he could not conceal his accident. Whilst mortified at having so public a wetting, if viewed as an experience it must rate quite high. Tom would not rush to do it again but would he worry too much if he did?
Perhaps not!