Fart

There’s really nothing unconventional about our family holiday celebrations—on either side. Over the years we’ve run the gamut of games and experimented with different foods, but nothing I would consider unconventional.

Do you remember Trivial Pursuit? Yes? We actually played that several years in the different variations. I have no further comment. We played a game called ‘spoons’ where there’s one less spoon on the table than players. It’s a game of elimination where everyone is grabbing for a spoon at the same time. It was brutal. My uncle always joked about sharpening his fingernails, but I’m convinced it was no joke.

I feel like we played every dice game known to man. Someone was always buying the latest ‘trendy’ game and we had to play it. Sadly, there were no drinking games, but I digress. Remember Uno? God, I hated that game. Draw two, skip, reverse, skip. Can I play? This game is stupid.

What’s this? A headband? Now I have to wear a headband? I can’t believe I’m subjected to this. Let’s play spoons, I haven’t cut my fingernails in a while. When are we leaving?

Probably my least favorite game was Five Second Rule. That’s the game…I’m sure you know…you have to name three things in five seconds. For example, three types of haircuts. The focus is on you alone and everyone is judging you with comments like, “This is easy, I wish that was my card.” Shut up. Would everyone just shut up? You’re all aware I have a PlayStation, right?

“Since you’re out of the game early, Dad, would you grab me a beer?” was a saying I used a lot. It really helped both of us—and anyone else imbibing.

You might be wondering, “Did he ever intentionally throw a game to get out early?”

Yes, yes, I did. I mean…that goes without saying.

For the sake of time, let’s fast forward.

I was then part of the next generation, the venue had changed, and so had the food. My brother and sister-in-law were hosting the event. There’s always a wide array of finger foods and it’s everchanging. And no gathering is started without a, now traditional, shot of Fireball with a group selfie. Man, how times have changed.

No more ham. There’s no more ham being cooked. We’ve graduated to beef tenderloin. We cook two of them, one of them medium and the other…well, it’s rare. Some don’t eat beef, but there’s always an Italian dish of some kind. You can’t go wrong with pasta.

There’s a potato dish and my wife’s butternut squash—it’s so good. You like dessert? I know you do. There’re so many cookies. One can’t possibly eat everything prepared. It’s really gluttony at its finest, but it’s only once a year. So, there’s that.

Guess what? My brother-in-law makes a marvelous seafood salad, which I love. Surprisingly, no one else does. It’s not a problem necessarily, just more for me. It has crab, shrimp, and an assortment of other things that won’t be mentioned here.

A few of us hold a ceremonial toast to those family members no longer with us and the younger generation holds there annual seek and find for their stocking. It’s a game based on clues and puzzles to get to the next clue and puzzle. Ultimately, to find their stocking. It’s fun for everyone. I’m pretty sure I’d kill that game.

You might be wondering, “There’s nothing unconventional about this. Where’s this going?” Yes, yes, I’m getting there.

Before we engaged in the adult games, there’s significant cleanup to be done. No one wanted to clean up at the end of the party—or the next day for the hosts.

“Are the tables cleaned off?” comes a question from the kitchen.

“Yes,” comes a reply from downstairs.

“Great, we’re coming down. It’s game time.”

Everyone gathers round the tables and standing while a giant ball of cellophane is dropped on one of the tables with two dice. The object is to unwrap it as fast as you can while the person next to you is rolling the dice to roll ‘doubles.’ As soon as they roll ‘doubles’ the ball becomes their property while the person next to them begins rolling the dice. The game continues in a counterclockwise direction.

You’re not allowed to rip the cellophane—you have to peel it off layer by layer. There are small gifts or trinkets embedded in the ball. So, as you peel away the cellophane, you get the item that falls to the table. You can imagine the ensuing chaos. People are yelling, screaming, and ‘pretend’ bickering.

There are tiny bottles of alcohol, gum, candy, cheap necklaces, scratch-off lottery tickets, you name it. Oh, and if you’re lucky, you might get a condom. You might consider that unconventional, but that would be a stretch.

If one cellophane ball isn’t enough, a second is usually dropped on the table. Once everyone has a few minutes to collect themselves, that is.

Cheers!

“Anyone who brought a white elephant gift please take a seat,” rang a voice from somewhere. If you’ve not heard of it, you may want to Google it, because there are variations of the ‘game.’

We play where you don’t open the gift you’ve selected until the last gift has been selected from the table, but that doesn’t stop the fun. You might say it adds to the fun, because people are being coerced into stealing someone else’s gift without knowing what it is. “You’re going love that gift. Take hers.”

We all drew a number from the bowl and proceeded in order selecting gifts. I was in the middle of the pack, so I sat and watched the chaos unfold. By the time we got to nine or ten, it had become apparent that everyone was targeting one person. It was a simple and innocent enough looking gift, at least from the appearance of the box shape and its wrapping.

So, on my turn, I stole it from her, just to keep it going. She had reclaimed the gift by then. This went on for a short time. I took possession of the gift a couple of times before I moved on to another. It was my turn again and the guy at the end of the table looked at me and then down to his gift. Then repeated, without saying a word. He was wearing shorts, yes, shorts. It’s a long running joke, so it’s not unconventional.

I took his gift.

The game ended quickly, and everyone opened their gift in order starting with number one.

It was my turn. Honestly, I can’t remember what was in the bag, but the first thing I pulled out was a card game called, “Fart – The Explosive Card Game.” I looked at the guy at the end of the table and he looked at me.

Fart? I got the fart game? Of all the…

“I got the Fart game,” I claimed as I held up the game for everyone to see.

The guy at the end of the table laughed—his wife laughed uncontrollably—and then everyone began laughing.

Playing it next year is going to be the start of an unconventional tradition, just saying.