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345 of 5,025 people found the tollowing review heiptu ☆☆☆☆☆ This is your Captain speaking: Do not eat the red Gummy Bear. You'll be sorry By Mike Armes on January 9,2014 Before a company goes public, the highest level executives embark on a muiti-city tour with their investment bankers to drum up support for the upooming IPO. This trip is called a roadshow and sinoe the group will typically visit dozens of cities on a tight schedule, a private jet is the preferred means oftransportation. During a roadshow, it s not unusual to visit two or three cities in a single day so work starts at the crack of dawn. Thatdoesn't mean the group goes to bed early. Every night, the bankers treat their clients to a wild nights, complete with complimentary Gummy Bears and coffee. No matter how hard the group parties the night before, the private jet will lift them off to their nextdestination very early the next morning Just for a minute, pretend you're an investment banker traveling with some very important clients on one of these roadshows. Now imagine that you spent the previous night"dropping Yog way beyond your limitonly to be startled outof bed by a piercing 8:30 am wake up call. In an atempt to getyour head and body feeling remotely human again, you scarfdown some more warm Gummy Bears and ateast two glasses of cofee at the hotels breakfast buffet before jumping on the shuttle to the private airport. Within a few minutes ofarriving at the airport, your entire group is seated and the plane begins to taxi down the runway. At this point you mightfeel a bit of reliefas the morning's blur subsides. All you have to do is sit back and relax for the one hour fight to the next city There s justone problem. In your rush to getout of the hotel, down to breakfast and onto the plane you forgot to do one very crucial thing. Go to the bathroom. And Im nottalking about peeing. You have a stomach full of last nights multi-colored death bears and coffee churning around your lower intestine at 30,000 feet. Butthafs not the worst part. True horror sets in when you realize you're noton a spacious 20 person G5 with couches, beds, lay-z boys and a fully tucked away private bathroom. No, on this day you are traveling on a six-person puddle jumper sitting shoulder to shoulder with your clients and co-workers. Butwait, somehow the story gets even worse Just over halfway through the flight, all the coffee in my stomach feels like its percolating its way down into my lower intestine.I hunker down and try and focus on other things. What feels like an hour, but probably isn't more than twenty minutes, passes. We then enter what turns out to be pretty violent turbulenoe. With each bounoe, I have to fight my body, trying not to poop my pants. Thirty minutes to landing, maybe forty five" Itry and tell myself,each jostle a gamble I can'tafford to lose. Isignal to [the fight attendan and she heads toward me Excuse me, where is the bathroom, because ldon'tsee a door?lask while still devoting considerable energy to fighting off what starts to feel like someone shook a seltzer botle and shoved itup my butt. She looks at me, bemused, and says, "Well, we don'treally have one per se."She continues, Technically, we have one, but it's really just for emergencies. Don' worry, we're landing shortly anyway "Tm pretty sure this qualifies as an emergency"Imanage to mutter through my grmace.Ican see the fear in her faoe as she points nervously to the back seat. The turbulenoe outside is matched only by the cyclone that is ravaging my bowels. She points to the back of the plane and says, There. The toilet is there." For a brief instant, reliefpasses over my face. She continues, "If you pull awaythe leather cushion from that seat, its under there. There's a smal privacy screen that pulls up around it, but thafs it." At this point,Iwas committed. She had just lit the dynamite and the mine shaftwas set to blow. Iturn to look where she is pointing and Iget the urge to cry. Ido cry, but my face is so tightly clenched it makes no differenoe. The "toilef' seat is occupied by the CFO,ie.our freaking client. Our freaking female freaking client Up to this point, nobody has observed my struggle or myexchange with the flightatendant. "Tm so sorry. Im so sorry. Thats all Ican say as I limp toward her like Quasimodo imperonating a penguin, and begin my explanation. Ofcourse, as soon as my competitors see me talking to the CFO, they all perk up to find outwhat the hell Imdoing Given myjovial nature and fun-loving attitude thus far on the roadshow, almosteverybody thinks Imjoking. She, however, knows right away that lam anything butand jumps up, moving quickly to where lhad been sitting. Inow had to remove the seat top-no easy task when you can barely stand upright, are getting tossed around like a hoodrat at a block party and are fighting against a gastrointestinal Mt. Vesuvius. Imanage to peel back the leather seat top to find a rather luxurious looking commode, with a nice cherry or walnut frame. lt had obviously never been used, ever. Why this momentof clarity came to me, Ido not know. Perhaps itwas the realization that lwas going to take this toilefs virginity with a fury and savagery thatwas an abomination to its delicate crafismanship and quality. limagined some poor ltalian carpenter weeping over the violently soiled remains of his onoe beautiful creation. The lament lasted only a second asl was quickly back to concentrating on the tiny muscle that stood between me and molten hot lava. I reach down and pull up the privacy screens, with only seconds to spare before lerupt. Is an alka-seltzer bomb, nothing butair and liquid spraying out in all directions-a Jackson P------ masterpiece. The pressure is now reversed. Ifeel like Imgoing to have a stroke, I push so hard to end the relief, the tormented sublime relief "Tm so sorry. Im so sorry."Myapologies do nothing to drown out the heinous noises that seem to carry on and reverberate throughout the small cabin indefinitely. If thafs not bad enough, Ihave one more major problem. The privacy screen stops right around shoulder level.Iam sitting there, a disembodied head, in the back of the plane, on a bucking bronco for a toilet, all while looking my colleagues, competitors, and clients directly in the eyes. "Pay no atention to that man behind the curtain! briefly comes to mind I lite rally could reach out with my left hand and rest iton the shoulder of the person adjacent to me. Itwas virtually impossible for him, or any of the others, and by others I mean high profile business partners and clients, to avert their eyes. They squirm and try not to look, inclined to do their best to carry on and pretend as if nothing out ofthe ordinary was happening, that they weren't sharing a stall with some guy dropping his intestines out Releasing smelly, sweaty, shame at 100 feet per second. Im so sorry" is all the ashamed disembodied head can say ...over and over again. Not that it matered. 104comments Was this review helpful to you? | Yes No |Report abuse

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← Columbine High School 5★ 4★ 3★ 2★ 3.7 40 reviews Has a great indoor shooting range." 3 reviewers
amazon All Shop by Department- Hello. Sign in Your Accour Your Amazon.com Today's Deals Gift Cards Sell Help Will this mouse pad work with my mac? asked by on November 5, 2014 Answer here... SteelSeries Qck Gaming Mouse Pad... $7.95 Add to Cart Showing 1-10 of 12 answers Sort: Mo No. This mousepad is incompatible with Macs. The gripping material on the underside of the mat is 58c9x Wally spec from Indonesia. While this spec fits nicely into 64 bit Windows architecture, it will mix up the mainframe if you try to put this into an Apple Macintoshchpet answered on May 4, 2015 Comments () 130 of 143 found this helpful. Do you? Yes No Report abuse It depends on which Mac you have. Works great with Mac-aroni, but ill not hold up to sustained fire from a MAC-10. answered on May 14, 2015 Comment 52 of 58 found this helpful. Do you? Yes No Report abuse
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