Though short, the last flight from LAX to SFO was painful. Someone in the vicinity kept passing gas. I found myself profiling the people around me, deciding on who was most likely contaminating my breathing space.
The specifics aren't pc.
Anyway, it was really bad, and the stench pretty much permeated the entire section. I'm sure others were taking their own mental notes. I kind of felt like I was in elementary school again when pointing the finger at the fart-er was mental game theory: frown in disapproval to deny?
And just when I'd decided the tiny put-together lady next to me couldn't have been it, she pulled out a nail clipper and started clipping her nails on the plane. Mon Dieu.
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