Something to remember when you're at a resort: even when you think you're alone, you probably aren't.
Dana and I were sitting in the hot tub in Jamaica late at night when the heat was turned down enough to enjoy the warmth of the tub. Granted, we were still in Jamaica, so we could only sit in it for a few minutes before we had to stick our feet in the pool to cool off.
I bought speedos for the trip. Not the tiny kind; they stretched about halfway to my knee. They were tight, though. I was also sitting on concrete. I let out a little fart. Or at least what I thought was going to be a little fart.
It was loud. It was long. It echoed off the walls of the outdoor pool area. Dana was doubled over in laughter.
"What? It's not like anyone heard it. There's no one around!"
"Except that guy on the balcony over there!" she giggled.
"There's nobody on the balcony." I responded, snark dripping off my lower lip. Then I looked to where she indicated.
"Whoa, man, ya just let loose, or what?!" called the nonexistent hoser on the balcony.
"I wasn't sure if that was a fart or something else!"
At which point I felt an urge to refill my drink, leaving my wife at the pool to relish in my embarrassment.