Over a 3-day period I participated in several meetings with a few people I had just met. Something funny happened during one of those meetings that got me thinking.

We were heavily involved in our first discussion when one attendee leaned forward to rest her arms on the table while she shared her perspective.  The only problem was, I think she shared a little more than she intended. She left a pooker. That’s what we used to call it when I was little-a pooker. I’m not sure I’m spelling it correctly because I searched over 200 synonyms and couldn’t find the word pooker. It sounds like cooker and looker, but it’s pooker.  Perhaps my Slovakian family was the only one to use that word, but you know what I mean when I say, “She left a pooker.” Well, her pooker was clearly heard by everyone in attendance because there was a split second pause in the discussion and people didn’t know where to look. I’m not gonna lie, it was hard to hold in the laughter.  I had to clear my throat a few times and shuffle through some papers just to redirect my attention and gain internal composure. That was one time when I didn’t want to share the laughter.

That was the first time I’ve heard that happen in a business meeting. I’ve heard it at grandma’s house when she shuffle-farted as she moved around the kitchen cleaning up after dinner.  Everyone sitting within earshot snickered because it sounded like she was walking across bubble wrap-the kind with big bubbles. Grandma didn’t miss a pop and never let on anything happened. I know, it was grandma, but come on, it was funny and a snicker was more polite than an outright laugh so I did hold it in.

I also heard a pooker at yoga class. Someone got into a pose and had a little trouble not letting out.  I thought the seam on the lady’s denim yoga pants was giving way, but that wasn’t the case. Trust me, it’s hard to hold a pose and keep your balance when you’re trying to hold in a giggle.  You thought I was gonna write, “fart” but I didn’t because it wasn’t me.  She did it.  Yeah, I know, it was a stress fart, but it still was funny.

Which leads me to what I was stinking. Oops, I mean thinking. Why is it so funny when it happens in some situations, but not in others? Is it the circumstance under which it happens?  The nonchalant nature of the pookerer or the reaction of the pookeree?  I guess it doesn’t really matter because when it’s funny, it’s funny and while someone else let it out, you have to hold it in.

Toot-a-loo,

Eliza G.