I'm with George and several other yoga people including Cynthia, hanging around a street corner, getting ready to go on a yoga trip to the Middle East somewhere (not India, but some unspecified place in the Middle East). Cynthia has some name-tag labels, just narrow strips, and she puts her own on. (I can read "Cynthia" on it.) So we get on a plane and make a trip, landing at a very small airport that turns out to be Indianapolis. That's as far as we got on the first leg of this trip. I've been very worried about the expense of this trip, I'm not sure I can afford it - it'll be several hundred dollars altogether and I'm not sure I want to spend all that. I was worried about it before but everybody said, come on, you'll love it, you'll see, and so I came along. I know I can charge a lot of it to MasterCard, but do I really want to? Now that I'm here, I see this tiny little airport, and I'm not at all sure I want to leave at all. It's a little building on a tree-lined country lane, lovely place [somehow I didn't realize Indianapolis wasn't a big city after all], I'm wondering if I can get a job here, at least for a while. [Note: we came south to get here from where we started.] Actually this is a library as well as an airport terminal. That's very handy, it's a very nice little small-town library with standard modern equipment. I seek out a bathroom, find it down a short hall and have to maneuver amongst boxes and stacks of things, and I do have a bowel movement. But (the same way it is with peeing) even as I stand up I have the same urge and have to go again right away, and I discover I haven't taken my underpants down. I'm disconcerted about this, now I've got shit in my pants, I hope I can deal with it before somebody finds out. I feel very exposed and it doesn't even seem as if I'm in the bathroom now, but out in the building.