The loud linoleum story

There was a time, a few years back, when I used to work on the floor of a building with about 40 other people, and we had offices that were intended for two people. As a result, you'd get tight with your office mate, but it was kind of isolating in regards to the rest of the staff. There were a lot of interesting people working there, running the spectrum from a woman who was so super introverted that she didn't say hello to most of the staff, to an extroverted old womanizer who you dreaded meeting in the hallway because he's drag you into a conversation and inevitably ten to fifteen minutes minimum would pass before an escape from him could be made.

I like to think of myself as someone for all seasons, a person who can mix well with most anyone, and this place, with its numerous eccentric personalities, was quite a joy to work in. That being said, it was not easy to get beyond peripheral relationships. It's one thing to say hello and chat about the weather, quite another to hang out after work and discuss the finer points of Descarte (or Paris Hilton, depending on the person's tastes). People prefer to hang in their cliques rather than mix normally, because that's where they feel comfortable. So it was quite a nice surprise to be invited to a small party for some co-workers who had returned from a vaction together to a small chain of islands in Southeast Asia.

The evening was a good one. Lots of wine, some smoke, a big LCD screen set up to show the photos from the trip. Vacations photos can be full of boring shots of people at famous and semi-famous places, but these were of beaches and of monkeys and lizards and other creatures found on the islands naturally. The three travelers were commenting on the photos, joking with each other. One was a middle aged guy, slightly balding and paunchy, with what might be called an old lady complex. That is to say, he worried a lot about small things and was really concerned about what other people thought of him.

As the evening went on, a lot more wine went down. Several girls from the office downstairs, who were pretty hot, showed up. More people arrived, and the room got fairly full. When I drink, I tend to make sarcastic comments, and such was the case here. People laugh, and it's not mean spirited, so why not after all. It was after one of these comments that my paunchy co-worker started to laugh, and suddenly, perhaps as a result of the mixture of a high fiber dinner and the wine, let some gas escape.

Now we were sitting on linoleum, the floor covering of choice in that country. Linoleum is peculiar in its accoustic properties. A sound that probably should have gone "pssss" went "BRAAAAP!" Suddenly, as if some great voice had spoken, all conversation died. The person sitting next to the paunchy guy had an amazed look on his face, and said, "Hey, did you just...?" The question trailed off without being finished. This poor guy blushed a crimson red from the top of his head down to his neck. The pretty girls from the office were tittering. With that, he stood up and went to his bedroom, and didn't return.

The strange part is that later he blamed me for causing his flatulence. He really held a grudge. Over a year passed before I was invited to another party there.

That's pretty funny, but all the horribly unnecessary details could have saved me a few minutes.

wow, um, he should have just took the blame, you guys were all drunk anyways

sounds like fun though

Hahaha, kick ass man. Does he normally organize the party's or something?

EDIT: I like the details, you tell a good story. I like reading though.

Yeah, sorry, I should've edited for length. He's a good guy, just somewhat church lady-ish. These are always the funniest people when they fart in public, because it's like "Who me fart? Never!"

good story haha