If there’s one thing that really irks me about long plane rides, it’s the plane fart phenomena. I can handle the turbulence, the bad food, the cramped space and the stewardesses who aren’t near as hot as they are in the movies. The plane farts however, they slay me.
What I hate about them is that when you catch that revolting whiff going through your nose you literally can not – do – ANYTHING. You can’t even acknowledge you smelled it, out of fear that people will think it was probably you that cut it up in the first place. Y’know the old adage “he who smelt it dealt it”? As you pretend to not smell anything, you try to look around without being obvious about looking around – and everyone looks so damn innocent. Yet you KNOW that behind all those innocent guises lurks the guilty fart ninja.
You can’t go anywhere to escape either. Unless you lock yourself in the bathroom, which isn’t really an option in today’s post 9/11 world. Even if you could, the moment you walk out of there everyone will suspect you of being the source of all the other foul assaults on their olfactory systems. You have no choice. All you can do is wait it out for the duration of your trip. Hoping and praying that they don’t do it again. I’ve never really been able to ascertain whether or not fart ninjas tend to be repeat offenders or not. No two farts ever really smell the same.
Tonight I’m living through the worst of the scenarios related to that – a freakin 14 hour international flight. Oh dear god I just got hit by another one. Argh!!