Other than being completely alone, I can think of no more anonymous place than an airplane at cruising altitude for achieving internal intestinal equilibrium.
They can be silent or “power ballads” – it really doesn’t matter. If the funky industrial fabric doesn’t muffle that biscuit from below, the engine noise certainly will. As for the smell of a fully percolated culo calzone, well, a minor bit of acting is required to shift the blame. Observe:
Mooch: …(audibly undetectable fracas from the fanny) slightly furrows his brow and flares his nostrils a few times turns to his neighbor with this same expression and tilts head slightly back and away in accusation and disapproval
At this point, your neighbor – not wanting to be thought responsible for this apparent cheese cuttery – will turn the corners of his/her mouth down, raise their eyebrows and shake their head. This is usually followed by a shrug of the shoulders and possibly a thumb jerk towards the row in front of you.
Heh. That’s awesome. After the fart itself, there are two more forms of art that, in the hands of a master, are amazing to behold: accepting the blame and shifting the blame to someone else.
A Stereotypical Boisterous Texan, recently a billionaire from his oil business, attends an elegant dinner with Old Money types. Unfortunately the Young Miss at the table had gas and was unable to contain her emissions. A Young Gentleman came to her rescue. ‘Oh, forgive me!’ he said, taking the blame to prevent embarrassment to the Young Miss. Twice more the Young Miss disturbed the meal with her rectal raspberries, and twice more the Young Gentleman covered for her by claiming it was he who passed gas and apologised for it. When the Young Miss farted again the Texan motioned to the Young Gentleman and said, ‘Now you just sit tight there, Pard. I’ll get this one!’
When I heard this, it featured a Texan. Feel free to substitute the Coarse Figure of your choice.
I was traveling on business a while back, and was flying from Charlotte, NC to Phoenix, AZ on one leg of the flight.
The night before, an old buddy was in town, and we had a real ‘guy’ night- Lots of beer, and brats on the grill. We drank until the wee hours of the morning. Consequently, I was not feeling well when I got on the plane, and was having to hold on reeeeaaaalllly tight to not drop a bomb.
So here I am on this 3 hour leg, and I decide to take a nap. I am just at the edge of sleep when I let one go. A real long one. I recall (in my half concious state) that I felt a LOT better. A few moments later, I am roused from my near-slumber by the most god-awful scent in the air- Anyone who has had beer & brats KNOWS the smell of which I speak- and I realize what I had done.
I quickly open my eyes, and the lady next to me (who looks to be in her 60’s) has covered her nose with a handerkerchief. Her husband is leaning way out into the aisle. People two rows ahead are all fanning the air. I look behind me, and the flight attendants who are doing beverage service 5 rows back are trying to figure out where this smell is originating.
What could I do? I began looking around as though I had no idea what was going on either.
What transpired over the course of the next three minutes was pure comedy gold-People hitting the call buttons for flight attendants. Folks getting up and going to the opposite end of the plane. One guy thought there was something wrong with the plane. A flight attendent mentioned something about the lavatory, and called the pilot.
They ended up shutting down one of the toilets, thinking that was the issue. The flight attendant came on the PA, apologized for the smell, and assured us that if it did not get better soon they would make an unscheduled stop.
Yep, my fart nearly brought down a plane.
The thing that gets me… I’ve let loose with some nasties on planes several times. I don’t recall ever smelling the work of others. It’s probably happened, but sure didn’t leave an impression like I imagine mine have.
You try to shift in your seat just so, get the ass cheeks spread just enough so they don’t reverberate and give you away. Leaning over like you are looking out the window is good if you’ve got a window seat, but you don’t want to to just lift a cheek. That’s a dead give away.
Spit, you are lucky you were not caught in fragante delicto. I can just imagine the flight attendant: “ladies and gentlemen, we have discovered the problem with the smell, it came from seat 7D, make sure you greet him when you disembark, have a nice flight”
One of the real dangers of farting sitting down (especially on those synthetic fabrics) is that sometimes, when you get up, even if it is several minutes later, a leftover little bubble of aroma is released and your cover is totally blown (no pun intended). Cheek separation is crucial to eliminate all evidence.
Obviously I’m in a minority, but I always find that one of the weird things about flying is that although the pressure changes mean I tend to feel the need to fart more, they almost never smell, like it’s just fresh air coming out. Or maybe air travel interferes with my sense of smell somehow. Who knows?
When I went through altitude training we were told that the pressure changes may cause emissions. The instructor said that if you smell a fart, someone is doing you a favour as he is telling you your oxygen mask is not properly fitted.
