Please forgive me, I never meant to hurt you. Truer words were never spoken, or in this case, unspoken. Unfortunately, unspoken translates into unheard, as in my true feelings are unheard, internalized to the detriment of the desired audience. But in this particular case, the offense is not perceived by the intended victim, or at least not perceived on a conscience level. I go on, or off, to another venue, space, location or time space continuum, aware and sometimes unaware of the devastation I leave in my odorous wake. Some call it crop dusting, others call it like they see it and point out the fact that I have launched several heavier-than-air butt missiles in most of the hallways and again on the trade show floor (extensively) of the Connecticut Convention Center in Hartford.
I blame the porters that they serve in the City Steam Brewery right below our hotel. I also blame numerous fish sandwiches, chowders, Buffalo chicken wings with the blue cheese dressing, and those Rueben Knockers that the bartender was able to scare up on Tuesday night at that smelly pub on Pratt St.
Is it my fault? Dunno. I apologized internally didn’t I? Admission of guilt automatically labels me the bad guy, but in my defense, I had to do it. Keeping that evil inside of me would kill me for sure, and if there is one thing I know more than anything else, it’s that this world needs me, maybe a little bit more than I need it. I have to let some things go.
SZ