So a little shy of two weeks ago, a man farted in my face at Safeway.
He really did.
I didn't want to write this post because I tend to not use the "F" word online. The one that forces the reader to envision disgusting images. However, I do use the other "F" word. Though I tend to mask it under things that are basically the same as saying it such as "eff" or "f***". Anyway, we're not talking about that one. We're talking about the thing that your Grandpa/Dad/Boyfriend/Brother repeatedly blames on Fido. Ralphie's old man may not agree but, in my opinion, it's the F dash dash dash word. A man I did not know, did that in my face, ON FATHER'S DAY. Could there be anything more poetic than that right there? Nice try, Maya Angelou.
Want details? Here they come.
Jay and I keep a steady stream of homemade popcorn available in our house for late night snacking. It's yummy, it's easy as heck to make and just works a lot better for late night cravings than breaking out a bag of chips, etc. So we keep it popping in our house (hardy-har-har) always. So anyway, on Father's day morning, as we stood in the very long line to pay for the rest of our groceries, I realized that we had forgotten to get kernels which we were out of. Knowing that I had a good 15 minutes before we reached the cashier, I made like a soldier, declared "I'LL GET THE POPCORN" with my fist in the air and skipped off to the appropriate aisle.
When I reached said aisle there was a 50-something lone man staring at the popcorn selection, dorky sneakers and dad belt included. I made my way to the same area and stood a few feet behind him as I perused the merch'. All of a sudden, as I bent down to grab my kernels, with my face kinda near his rear, the man lifts his right leg and lets out a huge, loud one.
Honestly, I was taken aback. And after a minute of confusion, all I could think was - "Did that man really just openly pass gas in the aisle? Like give no f***s and just let it rip when someone is standing right here? Did he really just fart in my d*mn face?".
But then my keys jingled. And as his head slowly turned around to reveal his horrified expression, I realized that he had no idea I was even standing there prior to that moment. I guess it makes sense, I was wearing sneakers on this day (these ones in fact) which would have rendered me quite quiet as I approached and stood behind him.
Thankfully, I was in that aisle alone because I know that had that occurred as I stood there with a friend, my response would have mimicked something you would see at Kindercare and emphatically humiliated the poor man. Instead, I raced back to the cashier, bagged our groceries and made my way outside. I even had the resolve to wait until we got in the car to regale Jay with what had just happened, my laughter finally free to erupt in the elementary school fashion that I had suppressed the prior five minutes like the grown-up I pretend to be.
All I can make of it is that this was my first Father's Day where I didn't get to see my own dad and I very much missed him. In its own unique way, the universe found a way to celebrate it with me. I'm sure someone, somewhere was preparing for that father's arrival, splendidly crafting a dad's day brunch to shower him with and tell him all the ways he has supported, cared and loved them through the years. And meanwhile, in all his dadness, he was just putzing around the store, loudly fartin' in the aisles.