249.How I Nearly Caused A Fit of Apoplexy: or, The Dangers of Farting in Public

I am human. I am no supermodel or crazy alien goddess. I am a real life human being. And humans have gas. We do. Don't even pretend you've never let one rip and been a little bit proud of the echo it created. And some days that has is near-toxic. Today is one of those days.

 I have super bad gas -- the kind that hurts when it's in and reeks when it's out. So I'm there at Walmart with my two boys trying to decide which is worse, the pain or the stench, and I figure "you know what, I don't know anyone here. I'm walking. I'll just let some slip and move past it. No one will be any the wiser." So I let some whiff out. At that exact moment a poor, unsuspecting elderly couple comes around the corner, right in front of me. They stop and take a moment to comment on my cute, close-in-age boys. I can't escape. The coupIe is standing directly in my getaway path. There is no way to move without obviously and rudely veering around them. So I stand there, a polite smile plastered on my face, waiting for the inevitable nasal assault to drift into range.

And then it happens. As if the cloud of noxious fumes is visible, i see the very moment this poor old man smells the effects of my rancid rear. His nostrils flare. His brows furrow and his eyes go wide. He literally coughs on my fumes and loses his train of thought. I can see his mind attempting to process this attack on his nerves, the way his lips purse together in an attempt to either cut off a verbal exclamation to rival my own foulness or to refrain from inhaling any further toxicity. His wife was the next victim. Her fists visibly clenched around the handle of her shopping cart and her gaze flitted from her husband's face, downward, and back up, while her face contorted in surprised disgust. 

I felt no compunction to correct her assumption. 

Apparently embarrassed by the unavoidable occurrence they had literally just walked into, the nice old lady wished me a good afternoon and stepped quickly away from the scene of the crime. As I attempted to hold in my laughter I peeked over my shoulder and heard a hushed accusation: "oh my goodness, Lou!"

Sorry, Lou.