flatus

There’s somebody near me on this plane who has atomic farts. I mean wake you up with burning eyes from a deep, oxygen deprived, alcohol enhanced sleep coughing farts. Farts like I’ve never had the misfortune to experience before.

All the more amazing because plane ventilation systems normally draw air in around your feet and spray fresh air out above you, so the flow tends to suck the farts out before have to smell them, along with stinky feet and other body odors. But somehow these farts are fighting upstream and arriving still potent and fresh.

And it isn’t just a single fart, but fast and furious. You’re just getting over the last one and starting to nose-breathe again when the next one hits. I think the guy next to me suspects they’re coming out of my ass. Each time one wafts by he covers his nose with his shirt (hard to do with an oxford, but desperate times…) and glances my way. At what point, sitting next to someone on a plane, do you say “who cut that cheese?” Does the admission that you smelt it imply delt it?

Maybe I should very obviously let one fly in a olfactory lull in a testimony of sorts.