I tend to roll my eyes while watching films that fall back on or overuse what’s termed potty humor. More specifically, movies that rely on extended scenes of flatulence or someone on the toilet experiencing gastric anomalies beyond comprehension. The only actor who could pull that off in any way was Leslie Nielson. Have you ever watched interviews with him when he had his fart machine in tow? Hilarious! But Nielson was a rarity. An example of a lesser scene might be the first American Pie film.
In any case, I tend to roll my eyes at such scenes, and, ultimately, those films. Why? Because, in my own humble opinion, it exaggerates something beyond the ridiculous and then beyond humorous. Some find it funny. Some don’t. I tend to err on the “don’t” side more often than not. Now, that being said, I have to admit that something happened this past weekend that makes me rethink my stance.
Allow me to say right now that I’m not above making fun of myself, or indulging in a little self-ridicule. I can dish it out, and I can take it. So, here’s the situation. Little Brother flew in from NYC this weekend for our yearly outlet shopping excursion. We indulged in a bagel and cream cheese breakfast, then stopped in at Zehnder’s for a chicken lunch. Something wasn’t setting well with me, and when we stopped by Bronner’s Christmas store a bit later that day, I could feel some tension in my digestive system.
I sent Little Brother off to look at ornaments while I ducked into a bathroom and took the middle stall. All was not well in Wonderland. All was not well at all. And things were about to go south quite quickly. Have you ever had a digestive system issue where you could feel things moving through your intestines? That’s what I felt.
I knew it was going to be bad. I knew it. There was no doubt about it. The problem is that there was a person in the stall on either side of me. Had I been at home, I would have let the chips fall where they may. It would have been noisy, but it would have been over quickly. However, I wasn’t at home. I was in public. So, I did the unthinkable. I squeezed those buns of steel of mine together, stopped up the drain, and gently, gently, unclenched a little at a time so as to manage the flow.
What followed can only be described as a real life American Pie moment. First, there was noise. Oh, my God…it was a symphony. And as if the prolonged symphony wasn’t bad enough, then came the sound of applause, all from my ass. What should have been a 10-15 second ordeal stretched to double and triple the length. It wouldn’t end, and just when I thought it would, out came more applause.
Yes, I felt much better after, and I waited until the people on either side of me had exited their stall, washed their hands, and left the room. There was absolutely no way I was going to let them get a look at me. No, thank you. And when I finally rejoined Little Brother? He looked up and asked “What the hell took you so long?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I told him. “But when we get back home, I’m going to introduce you to a movie called American Pie.”
Any of you ever have an embarrassing moment like that?