The first leg of our journey was a red-eye flight which is as recreational as having to wash your own dishes after dinner in a nice restaurant. You pay handsomely for the privilege of being strapped into a skinny chair on well used upholstery next to a stranger while lying awake all night.
We took off, gained altitude and about the time the lights in the cabin were lowered it began.
A gas leak.
An organic gas leak.
8.3 on the sphincter scale
From a body of unknown origin.
A body much too local to ignore.
It was not a scent, it was a smell. A stench as full bodied as an NFL lineman. It didn't waft, it bolted through the air as if shot from compound bow. It was a odor that merged elements of bat guano and old fruit, of a mishap in a 10th grade chemistry lab and wet german shepherd. It was robust, fibrous and permeating, rippling and recycling through the endless night.
Now, before boarding we were forced to endure humiliating security procedures culminating in an embarrassing pose, feet apart and hands in the air, all our secrets revealed by a full body scanner. If the airlines are really interested in keeping passengers healthy, I suggest every passenger be required to pass through a gastrointestinal scanner. If churning innards are revealed, travelers will be placed in a holding area and forced to chew Tums until gaseous stability is achieved.
I can't afford to lose any more brain cells.
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