A Study In Relaxation
I laid my head back on to the pedicure chair and relaxed into the simultaneous manicure-pedicure I was getting. Suuuuuch decadence should not be fully enjoyed, not really. No, my guilt must play a part in the indulgence, my nagging brain has to interject her opinion about how much money I am wasting and how I shouldn’t drool on my shirt, or even relax enough to fart. But, I see people do these things all the time all over the city. And, granted I don’t think I can ever get that relaxed that I can just rip a good one in a public place, there is something so ballsy, so adult, about fully enjoying oneself.
At work the other day, my work husband (The bartender I work with the most: we fit like a hand in a glove. It’s a pleasure working with this guy) and I were chatting under our breath like we usually do when a particularly boring show is going on when, without warning, a loud juicy fart erupted from somewhere beyond the bar from an undisclosed location. Simultaneously my work Hubby and I broke into gales of uncontrollable laughter. Someone FARTED! And it wasn’t me! And it wasn’t the work husband… so who is the culprit? Don’t laugh too loud, you’ll disrupt the show! I felt tears well up with the effort to suppress the loud guffaws I wanted to release. I looked at the other suspects in the area of the blast. No one had moved. No one had shifted. All was still the same. They must have heard that as well though. How did they all keep their composure? Magic. Adult Magic that must come when you reach a certain age that a massive fart can’t interrupt your composure.
I see people sleeping on the subway all the time. It’s no big deal. However, a person openly drooling on their shirt is a sight that takes my breath away. Are they aware that they are drooling on themselves? What a wonderful thing… They are so relaxed that drool can puddle on the front of their shirts and New York City can watch them do this. I can’t get that comfortable in a public place. Nope. Not happening. Recently I have been so fascinated with the idea of people passing out in the subway; that I’ve been filming some of the sleepers. Everyone is unique. Everyone is trying to stay upright (some more successful than others) and some even magically open their eyes to the right train station. Sleeping on a subway is an incredibly ballsy thing to do, in my opinion. And, although it won’t make me break into waves on uncontrollable laughter, it still makes me pause and stare for a minute.
Are these sleepers and gas-rippers fully enjoying themselves? Are these things just a side-effect of certain conditions? Accidents that occur due to a busy life style? Who knows. But, whenever I am witness to one of these acts I feel changed. These acts are so honest, and as they occur there is no apology, only afterwards, when there is a reaction amongst the natives. And just as a disclaimer: I am not a 5 year old. I feel that children are exempt from these judgments because they can fully enjoy whatever the hell they want since they haven’t fully learned what it is to have a filter in their subconscious.
So, I was leaning back into my chair while one girl worked on my toes and another filed my finger nails. I thought to these occurrences in which there is no filter. I relaxed. I didn’t fart though. Nor did I fall asleep. But I forgave the guilt associated with enjoying myself and tried as hard as I could to give myself up to the relaxation. Being an adult can also mean being poised in moments of extreme comfort, too. That’s magic as well.
December 14, 2011 at 6:34 pm by Natalie Allen