So I go to the restroom at the Super Target at 71st and 169 in Tulsa. It's pretty busy, but I see the handicapped stall door standing ajar, so I enter. Instantly I notice the toilet paper holder is empty, so I simply go to another stall and take care of business.
A couple minutes later I'm standing at the sink washing my hands. In the mirror, a man is seen striding very purposefully down the row of stalls. I glance over my shoulder and see the handicapped door click shut. Within a quick moment a very, very, loud and long juicy fart rips the air of the men's restroom.
I almost bite through my lip trying to contain the laughter. (Why do we find humor in another person's misery?) I quickly exit the restroom.
I relate the incident to my family on the drive home. My elderly father laughs along with me. My kind-hearted wife says I should have offered a wad of paper under the stall to him. I told her misery and shame are best endured alone.
What would my fellow SF friends have done?