Tuesday, March 06, 2007

If Oxygen Masks Drop From the Ceiling, Secure Yours Before Assisting Others

I was originally going to write a "Yay! I'm glad to be home!" post, but instead I'm going to take this opportunity to shame myself on the Internet.

Let me just preface this story by saying that I am not, on the whole, a big farter.

In keeping with my eat-whatever-you-want-on-flying-days rule, I had a vanilla milkshake for lunch today. And it made my tummy a little unhappy. Which made me nervous, because it reminded me of one of the most noxious odors I have ever encountered. Ever. And it was produced by me.

Several years ago I was on a flight. And I had that, hmm, I think I might have to fart feeling. And so I did. Ever so casually and quietly. Of course I assumed it would be a tiny little nothing, and if it smelled at all, it would be lost in the seat cushion.


I was sitting in my aisle seat, flipping through my magazine, when a truly vile smell assaulted my nostrils. It was so terrible, I could picture tendrils of a poisonous green cloud swirling and creeping through the air in much the same way that the legs of an octopus might gently and quietly reach out and strangle you.

At first I thought, "Good God! What's that?" And then it dawned on me. And all my hair stood on end.

I sat there willing it to dissipate before anyone else smelled it. Wishing I could take it back. But it just got increasingly stronger. And stronger.

Soon the row behind me, which turned out to be filled with people who knew each other, started talking about it.

"Oh my God! Did you do that?"

"Me? No! Maybe someone left the bathroom door open?"

"Holy shit! That's really awful."

And then the row in front of me started talking about it. And the row across the aisle from me. It spread until three rows in front and behind on both sides of the aisle were talking about it.

I was mortified. But hardly about to own up to it, surrounded by strangers. So I just looked around feigning innocence and horror. With my eyes wide and my nose slightly crinkled, as if I too wondered at the source of the eyelash singeing, shoe rubber-melting smell.

A flight attendant appeared, bustling down the aisle. She was moving at a good clip. And as she passed the epicenter of the smell (i.e., me), she sprayed air freshener. She did this in a very businesslike manner, without breaking stride, without looking left or right.

Tsssssst tsssssst tssssssst.

And then she was gone.

I was so thankful I was alone, that nobody knew for sure it was me. Although since then I've told everyone I know. Maude's family loves this story. She said that sometimes, when they all get together, like at holidays, someone will say, "Hey Maude, tell the Lisa farting on a plane story."

If anyone reading this was on that plane, I apologize. I really and truly do.


  1. AAAAHA! That's awesome. I had a really bad case the other day and the damned waitress was taking her sweet time giving us our check. So I blamed it on the baby at the table next to us. What? I'm not going to admit it was ME, when there's a perfectly good baby to blame it on. But, hoo. An airplane. Yikes.

  2. I laughed so hard at this! I love fart humor and this story is a winner! After reading J.N.'s comment, though, it makes you think "Hey! So that's why so many people go to the trouble of traveling with a crying baby on a plane. Carry on fart blame material."

  3. JN - Ha ha! Nice work, blaming it on a baby!

    DCup - Thanks! I think this is my one big terrible fart story. I think...

  4. OMG, Lisa, that was priceless!!

    That happened to me once in a car, with a guy I was dating and his friend. You know the smell is bad when it's 30 degrees outside and people start rolling down their windows!


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