The Explosion

. . . probably not a good idea . . . I thought before the first bite of a FANTABULIOUS bean burrito. "You're making a big mistake," prompted a funny look from the guy who made it. "The burrito is great, I probably shouldn't eat it is all."

"No problem. Come back again."

"You're not always here when I walk in Golden Gate park. I'm meeting my girlfriend."

"Enjoy."

An hour later she and I were walking in the Japanese Tea Garden we love. Quiet with no city noises, cool and shady with the smell of green and flowers. Very peaceful, a place where you go to contemplate life, or your belly-button trying to figure life out. I never did that, the belly-button thing.

We were walking, holding hands, bumping hips and rubbing against each other, smiling, talking and feeling like there were no problems and the world was Just Right.

With no warning my body betrayed me and validated my earlier assessment when, with no warning, I passed the most explosive gas I've ever had. That fart could be heard in Oakland, twenty miles away and my immediate worry was that I needed a men's room with a shower and a change of underwear, pants and shirt.

Her expression showed a total astonishment that morphed into a scrunched up face trying desperately not to laugh before bursting out with a laugh that was almost as loud as I'd been. Looking around there were a dozen people in various stages from startled to cracking up to horrified and that made me laugh and we wound up holding each other up. I didn't need to change.

After we’d calmed the laughing down to a giggle now and then a young guy walked by laughing and said, "Well, I have to thank you for that, it made MY day," and we lost it again.

That was a lifetime ago, 60 years now, and I'd like to sit down with her and talk about why we lost one another.