One of the most terrifying feelings you can have in an otherwise entirely mundane public scenario is instinctively knowing the fart threatening to breach your butthole has been stewing in the sulphurous bowels of hell for the past millennia, and is intent on emerging RIGHT EFFING NOW to rain locusts and vengeance upon the earth and its unsuspecting denizens.
Picture this: you’re on a packed subway car. The kind in which you learn, intimately, the pattern of dandruff on a stranger’s middle part, or if you’re short like me, the stench of their underarm B.O. If you’re a girl the eventuality that some dude will press his boner on you in this scenario is likewise inevitable, but it’s only really gross if the dude means the boner; it’s just sort of awkward and sad for you both if he couldn’t help it, and he genuinely wishes he didn’t have to rub it on you. You can generally tell by the expression on his face and his overall enthusiasm.
With all these people pressed together and nowhere for anyone to run, you feel it bubbling up inside you: The Fart. It’s not going to be a loud one, you know that for sure, and in some ways you’d much prefer the noise over what you know is coming; it’s not that farting is embarrassing (it’s not, it’s totally normal), it’s that you’re about to inflict an injustice upon the lovely, innocent people (except means his boner dude; that guy deserves everything he’s about to get) of this subway car that should be punishable by hard jail time. What you’re about to do is mean, and unkind, and the opposite of puppies and rainbows. You’re basically the Voldemort of bodily function right now.
It won’t always be on the subway when the Fart Of Satan strikes you; you could be on a first date, in line at the supermarket or at a concert, basically anywhere where people are going to have to unwittingly participate in guerilla warfare on their olfactory sense, and essentially end up really, really hating you. And you will hate yourself a little bit too.
It’s not like you’re doing The Most Offensive Fart On Earth in the privacy of your own room, where you’re free to revel in it like a disgusting pig (best quote ever: “everyone likes the smell of their own brand”), or in front of your little brothers who will congratulate you and shake your hand, or your friends who will banish you from the room pre-emptively when they see you sneakily lifting your left bum cheek off your chair. No, you’re really going to hurt some people that truly don’t deserve it.
That’s why I’ve perfected the art of the Fart and Depart. Look; sometimes holding it in is just not an option. You know what happens when you hold in a Hell Dimension Egg Fart? It comes back as Hell Dimension Egg Explosive Diarrhea. Not every time, but it might do, and trust me on this, you’d prefer to take the fart.
The thing about committing a crime is that you don’t want to get caught; as my driving instructor used to say to me when I was 16, if there’s no police around to see you indicate, does it even matter if you do it or not? It’s the same with Death Fart 2.0; if no one knows it was you, then it’s not your responsibility, ergo, you’re guiltless.
The first thing you need to do is assess the situation from the inside out. Are you wearing enough layers and is the fart trivial enough that you can just smother it into your seat? If yes, good for you — it’s a good day! At the closest donut store, buy yourself a donut as a prize! In fact, I will buy you a donut to say thanks! You’re a champion! If, however, that fart is your Vesuvius, you want to act fast.
Take a look around with your Terminator eyes (you know, the ones where everything is red and little squares hone in on important details). Where are the closest exits? Can you mark a mental escape route in your head? Are you going to be able to move fast enough so that the smell doesn’t follow you (think of a fart like fish poop; it’s essentially a long string of filth trailing out of your butthole, and only speed can shake it)? Most importantly, is there someone nearby you can pin this on?
It’s imperative that you leave the fart with someone that looks like they could have done it. A petite little girl with shiny hair and a pretty smile is not going to work; people look at her and think she poops rose petals, which is going to make everyone hate you even more for farting on her. Look for people that look drunk or who are eating McDonalds or any other fast food that might lead to irritable bowels. Huge men are also great, especially dudes that look like sports fans, because people just expect huge sports fans to be pretty uncouth generally. Crying babies are always a perfect scapegoat too; they might be small but babies are the worst offenders when it comes to diaper smells, and the crying just makes it all the more believable that the dumb baby crapped its pants.
Now, once you’ve chosen your mark, everything else comes down to timing. Wait for the subway doors to open and let it go, hard and fast. Or if you’re in a situation you can’t physically remove yourself from, get nice and close to the chump who’s going to take the fart hit for you and squeeze it out, being sure to turn to your neighbor as the smell permeates waving your hand in front of your face and throwing disgusted sideways glances at the frat bro you’re pinning your awfulness on.
In the worst case scenario, when there’s no one to take the blame, you have one option, and one option only. Unleash and run. Drop your bomb, keep your chin up, and hightail out of there. You might not be able to return to the scene of the crime (like do you really want the bodega guy to know you as “Fart Girl”?), but you will have escaped with a portion of your dignity intact. OK, I’m lying. At least you will have escaped.