Monday, July 16, 2007

Somebody Farted in the Elevator

I've been in San Diego, learning a small amount about laboratory science, but mainly drinking with colleagues and associates from faraway places - mainly Chicago.

Tonight I went to a formal dinner/dancing event put on by one of our vendors with which we have a multi-million dollar contract. I say this because, well, they owe us a dinner or two. It was held in the ballroom at the Hotel del Coronado on the beautiful island of Coronado. Me and my fellow conglomo employees ate and drank ourselves silly, and were rewarded by a serenade from Bill Medley, former Righteous Brother, and his ensemble included the song "(I've Had) The Time of My Life," which was written and sung for that favorite 80's movie, Dirty Dancing. Isn't that special?

I have one coworker who has a special charisma with strangers. She managed to drag to our table as we sat down, two amazingly gorgeous guys, both of which were, of course, gay. Duh. Nevertheless, I managed to flirt with one of them, and he even convinced me he was going to send me a puppy. As Bill crooned behind us, me and the gay pathologist (who, ironically, is in the Army) winked and giggled as the good doctor's boyfriend looked on jealously.

On my way home, I caught the bus to my hotel alone. It dropped me off several blocks away, so I ignored my 3-inch heels and half-skipped, half-sprinted back to my hotel. (I had to pee.) As I knocked my knees together waiting for the elevator, another few folks wandered over to the alcove. We offered impersonal smiles at each other as we waited.

Hopping into the elevator, I realized I was accompanied by four gentlemen and two women, all coupled. I pressed the '5' button and then acknowledged the fact that everyone else was on a floor higher than myself. As the door closed, it hit me.

Someone had farted. And for the first time, it wasn't me. Someone farted. Like, on the elevator dude. ON...THE...ELEVATOR. Could there be a worse place to break wind??? Can't you wait until you get to your room, or at least out into the open breezeways to let loose? I mean, damn! I giggled to myself as I held my breath. I realized I had the upper hand because I only had to suffocate for four floors, while the others had to do it further up. 1...2...3...........4......................5. Ding!

I skipped off of the elevator and took a long cleansing breath. Happily, I made my way to my room, knowing that the rest of my compatriots still suffering in the elevator were probably blaming me as the farter.