Thursdays are what I like to call "Taco Days". They are the one day a week I get to look forward to coming to work. It was a nice, cool day here in L.A. The walk between my office building and the farmer's market where the tacos are at is a little bit of a hike. It's not that long, but I'm lazy so it seems longer than it probably should. Most of the people I pass when walking there are for the majority the kind of people whom you want to punch as hard as you can right in the nuts, i.e. lawyers, bankers, & agents. But today was different...
I had no idea today would be such a great day. A random woman literally farted right next to me. Now it wasn't one of those juicy, heart-felt, damn-that-feels-good, rip-roaring tuba blaster kind of farts. And no it wasn't silent-but-deadly. It was somewhere in the middle. Yes, I heard it, and yes.. good God, it was eye-wateringly deadly. And for the record I want to make it clear that this woman was not old broad who's lost all control of her bowels. No. I'd say she was probably around the age of twenty-eight. All that being said, it still sounded incredible. Looking back now, I think I smelled it so fast because she was wearing a standard, black skirt. A truly easy exit.
I was behind her by about a foot, which was both good and bad. Obviously bad because some random person just sprayed me, but obviously good because I got to watch what she did to try and fix it.
Now it all goes without saying that if this happened to any one of us, we'd tried to play it off like nothing happened or better yet blame someone else. But she wasn't with anyone, and she wasn't on the phone or anything like that. So was riding solo.
Just then, she stopped. I did what anyone would do and acted like I had just received a call on my cellphone and peeled off to the side to watch. She too removed herself from the flow of human traffic. And then she did it. She quickly turned her head from side-to-side and deemed that no one was looking. Little did she know... Slowly, she dropped her right hand down her side and acted like she had a quick scratch on her butt. But there was no getting around it. She dug deep; quickly, but still deep. She wanted to research if she had in fact just soiled herself. She brought that research-steeped hand to her face and acted like she had a cough. Bingo. Her face said it all. She had in fact sharted herself. I literally laughed out loud. I cannot describe to you the sadness on this woman's face.
Now I do not know the extent to which she pooped herself. Was it a simple microscope droplet or a full-blown mudpie? We'll never know for sure.
When I got back to my office with my tacos, although the previous events of the day one would imagine would lessen the joy of food, I enjoyed them greatly. But they went through me like water. And as I sat on the pot down the hall, I couldn't stop thinking about what had just happened. It consumed me. Why would someone have gas that bad? Did she hear it too or just feel it? Was her day ruined? Did she have an extra pair of panties in her car? Or would she go commando for the remainder of the day? How?!?!? She was wearing a skirt for cying-out-loud!
The take-away of this story is this: "Sharting is not something to be taken lightly." Do not risk it. If you feel that gas coming, and you think you can let a little bit slip out with no consequences then yes, most of the time you'll be right, but if you miss just once... [silent pause].
The only thing that could be worse is if someone catches you... And then writes about it.
Mudpies.
Phenomenal.
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