To Air is Human--This leads me to the body’s true whoopee cushion. I was told to avoid this personal subject as it is something that should be recognized but not spoken of unless in jest. Well, along with being Frank comes great responsibility and considering this is one of Frank’s areas of expertise, I would be remiss in my duties to refrain. Cutting the cheese, spliffing, farting, seeing the man about some methane, whatever you want to call it, everyone has it in common, but, and I do mean butt, some more than others. When it comes to boarding an airplane though, things can get tricky.
You’ve been to a foreign destination. Your diet and nutrition table went out the window and you decided to try new cuisine. You tried yeast beer in Germany, tasted a new recipe for cabbage, or maybe you merely descended from a genetically airy family. Whatever the excuse, air travel doesn’t mean the same as traveling with air. There are ways of dealing with these situations effectively and others to avoid. In my earlier book I defined the art of crop dusting as walking up the aisle and passing gas. It may have sounded as if it was a practice I condoned; it was merely stating a reality for both passengers and crew. The best suggestion I can give is to let the lavatories do their magic. Merely sit down, do your thing and flush at the same time. The massive air suction that the toilet provides is ample to eradicate any amount of brussels sprouts. The other piece of advice is that if you are prone to such outbursts, than bring along some neutralizing medication.
Frank’s recommendation is GasX. Another hint is if you know that you shouldn’t be eating something and you are within hours of air travel, simply put, don’t. The air pressure up in the sky matched with the building air pressure inside your body is no fight you want to pick; you will lose and so will everyone else around you.
I was a first class passenger on a flight where we had a mystery gasser. It got so bad that most everyone had to stuff tissues up their noses. Most passengers assumed it was from a 300-pound man snoring away in the corner, but when it got so bad a flight attendant went way beyond the call of duty and did some nostril investigation. She was able to determine that the offender was a well-dressed businessman on the other side of the cabin. She questioned him, and when he finally came clean, his excuse was, “I am sorry, I just couldn’t help it.” Meanwhile the restroom was never occupied and nothing impeded his utilizing the facilities. The flight attendant paused a second and then responded, “I have a small piece of advice for you sir, next time, CLENCH!” Applause rang through the cabin, and the businessman caught the hint.
So in the words of a wise flight attendant, utilize the appropriate facilities, get a flatulence filter, or “CLENCH!”
