There’s been a lot of fart talk, lately . . . and because I have the maturity of a 12-year-old-boy, and in light of Mommakiss admitting that she’s a sleep-farter1, I feel the need to share this story.
One of Duffy‘s best friends was getting married . . . while he lived in DC, and would be living in DC with his wife, his fiance grew up around Des Moines, so that’s where the wedding would be. And, because “friends from childhood” is, really, just as good as blood, there was no doubt about whether or not we’d go to the wedding.
The afternoon of the evening wedding, we hailed cabs to take us to downtown Des Moines, because, well, hanging out in an airport hotel, when you’re sharing a room with your mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and brother-in-law just isn’t a valid choice. Two cabs came to pick us up . . . one of them driven by a very, very obese man, whose cab had been altered to accommodate his girth.
Now, I have no idea how we ended up like this, but I rode in the passenger’s seat of the cab driven by the obese man, along with my brother-in-law & sister-in-law, leaving my wife & mother-in-law riding in the other cab.
The cabbie sits down and, without warning, one of the worst smells I’ve ever encountered wafted over us. Seriously, imagine if you marinated a poopy diaper in spoiled milk, wrapped it in hair, and set it on fire. It was bad. Without a beat, though, the cabbie says “don’t worry, I’ll get that out of here,” rolls the windows down and speeds on down the road2.
The ride from the airport was probably about 15 minutes . . . but nobody spoke, the whole time, because any time one of us tried to say something, we burst out in giggles. Even now, when I let-one-fly in a car, I can still hear that perky Midwest accent saying “I’ll get that out of here.”
Other random notes about Des Moines:
- Downtown Des Moines, when the University of Iowa is playing a home football game, is like a ghost-town . . . I seriously think we saw tumbleweed pass us when we were looking for a place to have some lunch.
- This was my first trip to Iowa . . . the next time, it would be for #RAGBRAI, which I’ve written about at great length.
- Iowans enjoy their beer. A lot
1) Maybe this is rude, but I want to know how the cab was altered.
2) I’m secretly glad this wasn’t about you.
3) Vom.
4) What else is there to do when there’s a football game in a small town? I still love grocery shopping while UT Is playing because the stores are empty. Cowboys too, but then they started sucking more and not so much.
1) The front seat of the car was, physically, removed, and replaced with a non-adjustable seat, which was very low to the frame of the car, and allowed him to sit further back without affecting the leg-room of passengers.
2) I’ve released some doozies in my lifetime, but none like this one.
3) Yeah – I probably should have given a warning
4) The thing is, Des Moines isn’t exactly a small town . . . I think it has about 50k people in the city proper. It’s just that everybody was either at the game, or home, watching & drinking in their own place, I think.
Can’t breathe….laughing so hard!
😀
Everything that Jess said! (well, except for #4, I can’t relate to that. But the other 3 things!)
Yeah – it was a very strange combination of funny and gross.
hahahahahahahahahahahaha
I’ll get back to you with a real comment
hahahahahahahahahahahahaha
Glad to make you laugh 🙂
I still chuckle about it, years later. And vomit in my mouth.
“Don’t worry…I’ll get that outta here…”
No he didn’t!
(Oh, but he did.)
So gross and funny.
Not to mention a speeding hazard…
The whole process was, just, surreal.
Hilarious story. I’d tell a story like this but I’m sure my wife would say, “You think THAT was bad? What about that one time you….”
As they say, everyone likes their own brand. But even my own brand makes me wretch from time to time.
Oh, my own brand does, too . . . especially now that I’m eating meat again.
But, I’ll say that there was NOTHING that I’ve created that came anywhere close to what I encountered.
Reminds me of how excited I was when D1 started solids. That excitement was soon replaced w/ disgust whenever she pooped.
Oh God. I nearly wretched just reading your description.
I still nearly wretch when I think about it . . . and then I laugh. What is it about smells that you can always recall them? And why?
CRACKING. UP.
Glad to make you laugh, Missy 🙂
dude. I could tell you some major fart stories that I have always deemed award-winning. But they all pale in comparison to that fat cabby’s rip.
and now? I will be saying, “I”ll get that out of here”.
You know, I’ve launched some pretty massive farts in my lifetime, but I haven’t unleashed one that I would deem worthy enough to make me say “I’ll get that out of here”