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Okay, it was me. No one usually wants to admit it, and Lord knows I really shouldn't be writing about this here but I promised to testify about things not easily shared.

I was in the subway station the other day about an hour after I had consumed a bowl of chili. The beans in the broth were not quite cooked and I wound up tossing about half of them out. Not enough time it seems to allay the damage.

Yes, I was having problems with gas.

Walking into the subway station I found myself unable to control the blast that was churning away and thought I'd let it escape delicately.

There was nothing delicate about it.

I realized this as soon as I felt the burning sensation. Others realized it within seconds. Two older women got the brunt of my indiscretion. Their eyes teared and hands immediately went to their nose and mouth.

"Agghh," one woman exclaimed, "that is disgusting."

As most women will do, her companion immediately piped up, "Well, it wasn't me."

No one was accusing her. Least of all myself.

Fortunately for me, but unfortunately for others in the station, the blast expanded so the culprit couldn't easily be found. The station took on a thick air, which I was comfortable with but surely no one else was. The two women went around and around about the person who could have done such a thing. Suffice it to say that they thought this was a deliberate act of terrorism (and under other circumstances I might have agreed).

I did find it interesting that one woman kept defending herself (it wasn't me), even though her friend had not accused her of anything. I find women, more times than not, take on the scapegoat role even if they haven't been charged outright. "I'm sorry." "Don't think I did that." "It wasn't me."

No, it wasn't you - it was me. I could have announced my indiscretion and asked for your forgiveness, but I didn't think I'd make it out of there alive. Even with the explanation of the chili, I really don't think people were willing to listen. They were having a hard enough time breathing.

So what can I tell you?

I'm sorry. I haven't eaten a bowl of chili since and was just grateful I wasn't in one of the packed cars on the subway, but had the roominess of the station. You see - there are things to be grateful for if you just look at them the right way! And to the two ladies who were behind me? I'm dreadfully sorry. I'll pay for any dry cleaning bills or wrinkle cream you had to buy as a result of my indiscretion.

Now that the air has been cleared, let's move on.

- Lisa Rehfuss

Lisa Rehfuss is publisher/writer of www.howlpress.com and www.mollyandbuttercup.com. Contact her anywhere, anytime. As a writer, she will write back.