The Emperor's New Toot

I originally published this experience a few years ago on my blog London Calling. The substantial support from the public has been wonderful, and I have since been able to recover, somewhat, from this tortuous experience. It was a balmly Fall day when I set out to become enlightened. I needed to learn to connect and invigorate myself from within. So I walked into the dimly lit, Asian inspired room to try Yoga for the first time.

It was a small class. About seven women, and one big man in a floppy cream colored sweat suit. The big man seemed a bit out of place, until I realized the woman next to him forced him to come. Our instructor walked in. He was a tall powerful looking man. However, he spoke to us gently and softly. Wow, he's nice. I began to feel the stresses of the day fall from my temple. I started to decide I would do yoga everyday for the rest of my life. I wouldn't have to work out or exercise...because I did yoga! My mind came back to the sound of the instructor. He told us we would begin our stretching exercises. I can do this. So we stretched to the left. Then we stretched to the right. Then he told us to reach up high, high, high as we could. We held that position for a bit. Then, we were to bend over all the way down to the fl - - -FAAAAAHHHHHHRRRRRTTTTTTPPPPFFFFFFF!! OH. MY.GOD. Someone just farted REALLY loud. I waited for a giggle, a snort, an apology...anything. Nothing. The instructor even moved onto the next instruction without a beat. What??! Are you kidding me?!! Someone just farted really really loud (and long I might add) in a small quiet room and NO ONE IS LAUGHING?!! I had to shake my head from side to side, squint my eyes, bite my lip, thoughts of lost puppies...anything to keep from laughing. WHY is no one laughing?!!?!? This was worse than child labor. I had to focus on a spot on the wall and breathe, just to keep my head from tossing back into a horrendous big cackle. Immediately, I knew. I knew it was the big guy in the floppy sweats. Please God do not let me look at the guy in the floppy sweats.

I don't know how, but I managed to get myself under control to make it through the rest of that class. As I walked over to get my brand new yoga clogs, there was "Floppy Sweats". But before I could even think about what I would say (I thought of saying "nice relaxation man!"), his "pittbull wife" swooped in and fired me an offensive look saying, "Yeah he farted, so what!!?!"

So I turned, carefully, slipped on my clogs, and never returned to yoga. What good is enlightenment if you can't be real about a fart?