Don’t you hate it when this happens? I’m sure we’ve all been in the situation where there are two of us standing in any public place, most likely where there is closed space and poor air circulation, like where I was last weekend, the bar. I was with a friend and we were in this smoldering club, the air already smelt like a sweat lodge where instead of using clean water they rung out someone’s B.O. saturated T-shirt sprinkled with a little asparagus-piss over the coals.
Anyways, we were ordering drinks at the bar, and despite the evaporated sweat that was clinging to my nasal ciia, my olfactory sensors detected a pong so raunch it could only be produced by one thing: flatulence. I don’t even wanna guess what the person had to eat that night, but let me tell you it wasn’t cotton candy and gum drops. This rank hit me so hard I was beginning to hope the bartender had emergency smelling salts in stock. It was so bad that I knew both my friend and I had smelled it, and as my nose was crinkled up like a little button, I just about said something – but then stopped myself.
What if she dealt it? Her potential embarrassment for the rest of the evening was not worth my acknowledgment of the farty air. But because of this courteous reasoning, I got myself into a rather pickle of sorts: What if she had not birthed these cosmic explosions of nauseous gas, and assumed that I had because I wasn’t saying anything??
So here I was, stuck between a fart and a hard place. What do you do in that situation? I liken it to going into a washroom where someone else has just shat, and then feeling like you have to take the blame after, even though you just go to pee pee but the person who goes in after will assume you’re the one who shat if the smell is still lingering. In the end, I didn’t mention the fart, and neither did she, and I also gave her the benefit of the doubt that the ugly smell did not come from her anus but that of one of the 100 or so more disgusting people in there. I assume she gave the same benefit to me.
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