10/11/07
Tonight at the AMC movie theater inside Century City Mall, I was taking a pee break in the men's room before "Michael Clayton" started. By the time I got to the urinal, however, something erupted in the stall about ten feet to my right. To call it a "fart" would be doing it a grave disservice to all other farts, even those forced into the world by my brother Sean.
Yes, even the farts Sean created in the car en route to Utah in 1981, which I think we can all agree was his Golden Age of Farting.
No, this was another beast altogether. Deep, rich and sonorous, it was the kind of basso profundo that ricocheted around the tile walls with stunning clarity, like the Whispering Gallery atop St. Paul's Cathedral. After a few more seconds, with the bleat not stopping, I knew we might be on to something.
A man in a denim jacket came into the bathroom, as well as a gay Asian couple, and all three immediately froze when they heard the din. It was not the kind of noise you laughed at; no, it was the kind you experienced with jaws relaxed open with the possibility you might be witness to history.
At this point, I checked the second hand of my watch and backtimed the fart to about 12 full seconds. Now it was much more than a fart - there were ungodly noises of wet effluvium, vaguely reminiscent of when they open the release valves on the Hoover Dam. I looked at the gay couple, and they looked at me. This had gone past humor, past absurdity, and was now entering another realm altogether.
At eighteen seconds in, it still hadn't finished. I was beginning to calculate who could possible have that much gas, or really, anything inside them. Plus, who was this Anonymous Farter? Was he six-foot-eight, round as a toll booth? One thing was for certain: he possessed a lack of self-awareness that defied all social convention. As the vibrating, thunderous ass gasps continued, I knew we were dealing with someone who had broken the chains of moral obligation and drop-kicked inhibition to the wind.
Still others came into the bathroom, and were slowed by wonder. At some point, tears came into my eyes, because it had come all the way back to being funny again. I simply couldn't believe a human being's butt was capable of such cacophony, and by now, nor could anyone else. We were all strangers, but smiling now, knowing we were sharing something truly special. By the time the dying blasts emanated through the room, I checked my watch: 25 seconds.
The movie was starting, and I knew the aftermath would take some nuclear waste know-how to tidy up, and thus I never met the man responsible. But I would like to say this: Dear Sir, you have a gift. It's not often one gets a superlative moment in life, so I must thank you for abandoning all care and letting us experience what will surely be The Greatest Fart We Have Ever Heard. I doff my cap to you, and wish you many happy returns.
From fish to farts... What wonders next will Xtcian bring to early risers? LOL
Omg. Laughed till I cried.
Poor man, THAT kind of gas must hurt like a bitch. No wonder he doesn’t care who hears him.
I also feel sorry for those who witnessed the event; It’s not the type of story you can retell in just *any* social situation. They're probably all bursting at the seams. You're so lucky to have this medium to share such interesting, and on occasion socially inappropriate, stories!
thank you for this post. truly.
My precocious daughter inherited from her Great-Grandaddy Doug the ability to pass gas on command. She always has one in reserve and is especially adept at surreptitious, stealthy approaches before a maximum impact. Hopefully this skill will serve her well through life. I'm thinking title 9, scholarship, future Olympic status, etc...
Happy Weekend!!
Wow. Just... wow.
we speak your name
Ian...did you ever hear Papercut Man's story about the 1996 Democratic Convention? Heck, I'll tell your buddies the same way V-X told it to me.
"Papercut Man" is the handle of a guy Ian and I used to know on a Usenet group. He is, or at least used to be a journalist, and he uses a wheelchair, and he was covering the Dem convention for a disabled issues magazine. At some point he felt the call of nature.
He rolled into the men's room to find the big wheelchair stall occupied by someone who was clearly not disabled.
So Papercut sits there, getting progressively more pissed off, and what's making it worse is that the guy is taking an offensively loud shit. I mean, farts ringing off the walls constantly, the man is clearly distending his poor asshole and grunting and spattering and the smell's getting bad and everything.
Finally, this ends, and the guy comes out. As usual when Papercut encounters this situation, the shitter gets all embarrassed at being caught holding up the disabled stall when there's an actual disabled person outside waiting, plus, it probably dawns on him that he's had an audience for his fart and spatter-shitting fest, the whole time. So...he falters and hems and haws and can't say anything, and finally just storms out of the bathroom, all mad.
And that man was Wolf Blitzer.
Try and imagine the private terms for farting and shitting that have emerged from that awesome story, ever since.
I just laughed out loud...several times. You made work bearable...yet again.
The best part was the image of camaraderie between you and your fellow bathroom users as you were witness to this awesomeness.
Thanks.
Ack. I've been trying all morning to keep my morning sickness at bay. Unfortunately, this post sent me over the edge. Thanks a LOT, Ian...
I will, however, forward this one to my husband, who thinks EVERYTHING about farting is funny.
Thank you! This made my day.
That was a good one Ian. I think this part
"Deep, rich and sonorous, it was the kind of basso profundo that ricocheted around the tile walls with stunning clarity, like the Whispering Gallery atop St. Paul's Cathedral."has to be the most eloquent writing on the topic I have ever read.
And the title Push Butt...
I actually used a hand drier in Vegas a couple weeks ago that really worked. I think the days of reading "push butt; wipe hands under arm" are numbered.
I'm still waiting for Yo!Thief! to step up and claim responsibility for this act as well.
This is a masterpiece....
Seriously, 25 seconds?! I'm sorry Ian, but my husband and I think you've been had. There is not enough room in one man's intestines to hold that much gas! Are you sure it wasn't the old "arm fart/whoopee cushion - make everyone in the bathroom uncomfortable" prank?
At least I hope for that man's gastro-enteric health that it was a joke...
This story really resonated with me.
Though I deride my boyfriend for laughing at this type of thing, I immediately forwarded this to him. Ian, seriously, I agree with ruppstew. This is one of the most perfect existing examples of the rare comic strengths in your writing. Unless there's a lot I haven't read...and come to think of it there is a good bit I have not read, which means that your scripts are absolutely destined for success. I had tears in my eyes....
Best line: "I knew we might be onto something."
This article is something I would expect to have read from a high schooler - it's silly. And sorry...but it's not funny - it's dull juvenile rambling.
It's definitely a guy thing, which oddly appears to know no age limit.
To quote my best friend's husband "Farts are funny". I couldn't agree more.
I sure hope this man can find someone or some way to harness this gift. Just think of the opportunities. WOW.
It's the literal descendant of Proust's madeleine.
I love it that this blog gets into every nook and cranny of the human experience. Sometimes crannies we'd rather not think about.
Days later and I am STILL laughing about this post whenever I catch sight of it. Hysterical. Thank you for being the sort of blogger who's unafraid to celebrate and immortalize the Greatest Fart We Have Ever Heard.
(Can you imagine being the person who produced it? Wow!)