Fart in the box


I entered a packed lobby of  a large skyscraper in San Francisco.   I’m texting my friend to confirm her location in the building.  People are pushing on the elevators.  As soon as the a doorsopens the crowds are packing the elevator, making it difficult for those on the elevator to exit.

I’m in the wrong area.  I need to be in the area with the express elevators to the 38th floor.


I put my phone in my pocket and jump on an packed elevator just before the door closes.

First stop ,is the 30th floor.

Within seconds someone farts.  It was wheezing fart, like someone was trying to hold it, but it escaped.     There was shift in the elevators, I side eyed someone, side eyeing.  Its elevator etiquette. all eyes forward.   I so wanted to look back and say DAMM!   Finally ,were on the thirtieth floor, the majority of the occupants exited.   I intended to follow the herd, then the door closed.

Oh well…. more room for me, there were three of us.    One person gets off at the 32nd floor. and then the 35th.   The door opens and as the man was leaving, he farted, the little bitch didn’t say excuse me or anything.   I’m alone with his personal gift in the elevator.

I’m so pissed, I’ve forgotten the suite number.  Luckily my friend was looking for me.  I tell her about the little bastard and she is enjoying my anger.  I’m making her day, oh goodie!

  As I leave her office, I realized that I was obsessed with the little man.   I was hoping  I would see him again in an elevator.  Oh course after drinking a quart of milk, lactose is real baby!    Fuck everybody, they would just be casualties of war.   I wanted the little bitch to pay!   Time to leave, hugs and kisses.

As I get on the elevator, I’m talking to myself in my head.    I really need to get a grip!   What is this fart rage?

The doors open,to the ground floor.  I’m being completely ridiculous, I thought to myself.

As I enter the parking garage, I thought I saw him again, I increase my speed to the elevator.

Calling Dr Phil!






Published by CityFella

Moved to the Big Tomata in the nineties from San Francisco. No Suburbs for me with its single colored houses and lawns and the excitement of pulling out my trash can once a week. I'm a CityFella , a part time New Yorker. I'm happiest in the Center City where people the streets and people are alive. I'm still waiting to buy a 34th floor condo somewhere downtown/Midtown with a nightclub. "Hurry I'm old" My politics are somewhere in the middle with a needle that constantly moves. I'm too liberal to be a Republican and too conservative to be a Democrat. Everything interests me . I've come to love Sacratomato, Its a nice town in cheap sensible shoes .

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