Hawgsmoke.com
Hawgsmoke 2010
13-16 October 2010
Boise, Idaho
Piddle Packs
Many of you have probably wondered at one time or another, how does a fighter pilot relieve himself when he flies? The answer is a piddle pack. I'm not sure if I spelled piddle right, but that's how it sounds. A piddle pack is an ergo metric, zip lock bag with a sponge in the bottom of it. Up until the last couple of weeks I have been able to avoid using this contraption. The Monday before last, this all came to an end. I was part of a two ship dropping bombs on a local range. After a couple of attacks I began to notice I had drank more than usual and was beginning to feel the effects. The g-suit wasn't helping. A g-suit is a kind of blow up device that fits around your legs and stomach in attempt to squeeze blood to your head. It does that alright, but it also does a good job of squeezing urine to your other head. I finally had to call uncle.
Prior to this occasion, it hadn't occurred to me how difficult it might be to do the deed. After all, what red blooded American male hasn't peed in a cup in a car to avert having to stop? That's definitely the way to go. I've tried other methods such as peeing out the back of a Blazer, vacuum effect, people wondering why there wet, the police, but that's a whole other story. The point is... I've peed through adversity before. This was a whole new ball game.
The first thing I had to do was prepare the piddle pack. I had never used one before; I assumed you just had to unfold it, which I did. Apparently you have to stick your finger in it and make sure its opened up. I would soon realize my mistake.
Now you have to consider when you're sitting in the jet, along with a g-suit, you've got hoses, survival gear, oxygen mask, helmet, and a lot of other things to deal with. It's kind of hard to see what's goin' on. Once everything was in place, I began my business. That was when the first complication arose.
I was having a hard time getting started. By this point my flight lead had called me a couple of times asking me if I was done. I had replied twice to him I hadn't even started. So I got that whole "trying to pee with somebody watching" thing going. At this point I came to the conclusion I was trying to poo instead of pee. Remember back when you were a kid and you did that reverse twisty thing with your hands together and tried to move the finger your buddy pointed to only to move a different finger. Same principle, only this was with bowels. Fortunately, it wasn't a successful defication, as this would have been a whole new problem.
After some long hard (so to speak) concentration, I was able to begin. Now mind you, I really had to go, so once it started, it was a flowin'. After what seemed an eternity, I noticed the bag wasn't getting any heavier. With my current flow, it should have been hard to lift. As I survey the scene I come to realize my piddle pack prep mistake. Let’s just say a swim would not have been out of the question.
Have you ever seen those shows with the mom changing the baby and a little squirt shoots up in the air? Well it works the same with 27 year olds, only it’s more like a fire hose. I finally get the thing pinched off only to have yellowish liquid dripping, from what seems to be, every square inch of cockpit. It's a wonder I wasn't electrocuted.
At this point, I get the piddle pack set up right and finish the deed without further complications. I used the heater to dry the jet out and recovered without anyone truly knowing my dilemma, although that jet smelled nothing short of ripe.
Further adventures with the piddle pack:
After that ordeal, I had used the piddle pack a number of times and felt I was well adjusted to its use. The other day I was triple turning, meaning I flew three rides in a row only stopping for gas. It was cold outside and thought a thermos of hot chocolate would hit the spot. As it turns out, hot chocolate is a diuretic and makes you flow like the River Jordan. As result, I had to use many piddle pack to make it through the day. Six total... maybe a record. After I shut down the jet, I threw the six of them over the side of the jet on the ground and I would pick them up after I got out of the jet.
In my haste to get out of the jet, I missed some steps and ended up having to jump down. Unfortunately my left foot came down square on one of the discarded piddle packs. Well it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened. With the sound of a shotgun blast sheets of urine were sprayed for a many yard radius around me. Let's just say the guys working on the jet were not amused. That cost me a couple cases of beer.
