I’m in this:
So. You want to know about the fart that caused a woman to think she had a visitor. Where do I begin? I lived on East 78th Street from the summer of 1997 through the spring of 2003, and the last six months of that were spent with a crazy actress roommate. So this incident took place in either late 2002 or early 2003.
This woman was an extremely high-strung person. She would chain smoke all day while sitting out on the stoop, talking to anyone and everyone she could. Then, at night, she would continue to chain smoke and drink beers until 4 or 5am. Then she would get up at 6 or 7am and do it all over again. She was nuts. But if she’s reading this, JK no you’re not HUGS!
Our bedroom doors were perpendicular to one another, and the walls in this small apartment were fairly thin. So thin that sometimes the sound of her typing while doing email would keep me up. I usually had to wear earplugs because of how perpetually awake she was, constantly walking around the apartment at the hours during which failed dreams dwell.
One morning during a weekday, following a night of beers, burgers, Ben & Jerry’s and beers, I farted. It was very early in the morning, around the time my roommate might start waking up, but way before I would normally get up for work. So I was lying in bed. Under the covers. When I farted. It was a ripper. Loud, wet, sustained and high-pitched. Like someone was starting a helium-powered chain saw. No sooner had the final notes of this fart faded into the sheets, that I heard the WHAM of my roommate’s bedroom door slamming open. Followed by the purposeful thumping of her footsteps across the apartment, away from my bedroom and in the direction of the kitchen, where our front door was. Pause. And then, over the dim static that indicated she was holding down one of the intercom buttons, I heard her hoarsely say “Hello?” Beat. “Hello?” Beat. Then a thump thump thump back to her bedroom. Slam.
She had thought my fart was the door buzzer. The pitch and duration of my fart were apparently indistinguishable from the sound the door buzzer makes. I chuckled silently for a good long time when I realized what had just happened. And then I told the story on stage in a sort-of Spanish accent the following Tuesday night.