Emergency Exit: Chen Wengling’s Solo Exhibition
Sometimes people fart in my streetcar. I am lucky enough to be in a window seat most days but this means I am saddled with the dilemma of whether or not to open said window when the smell hits. I don’t want to somehow implicate myself in the dirty deed by cracking a window.
Hello, Escape Fartist. If you’d permit me, I’d like to apologize straight away for giving you that fake name. If you’d permit me again, I’d like to make a small confession: I hate the word ‘fart’ with every square inch of my tiny heart. I hate it so much that I clench my fists in a white-knuckle rage when people say it. You see, I grew up in a small town, and I’m pretty sure that a neighbour on my street had a bumper sticker that read, “Who farted?”, coupled with the image of a cross-eyed, Ziggy-like character who was shrugging (he did it, obviously). It was that bumper sticker and my brother sitting on my face to pass wind that removed me from the exclusive club of people who find amusement in flatulence. I never find it funny, which means I take it very seriously — so, you have asked the right person. God, that whole paragraph sounded like Ignatius Reilly (basically the epitome of a gasbag).
I realize you’re not asking a question about the humour of flatulence — and in order for your question to be answered properly, the issues of both the culprit and their victims need to be addressed. First of all, no one should be farting on the streetcar. Speaking from the experience of being a human being, it is one-hundred percent possible to hold it in for a while. If that selfish pig person was to go on a first date, would they just lean over to the side and let out a fart at the dinner table? It’s possible, but unless their date is into whatever the rare fetish is that involves farting during dinner, the chance of making love has certainly decreased. An equally important factor to be considered in judging someone who farts in public is the idea that each individual must be generally aware of his or her potential to discharge a malodorous emission from their asshole. I am well-known (and brag about it regularly) for being a person who can break wind without the threat of a smell. I know that about myself, so I can get away with it more often than not. If two-out-of-three-times you stink, then stink not in public, foul beast of hell!
A person thrust into the position of having to sit within a cloud of someone else’s digestive gases is not fair. It is especially unfair in a closed environment, and what makes it even worse is that when there is no auditory evidence to indicate guilt, the offender usually remains anonymous. In such a situation, there is little to be done, save the following:
Save Yourself: If the ship is going down and there’s no reason to sink with it. A recent Swedish study has shown that even during tragic situations, it’s every man for himself. Forget what the people closeby might think, just open that window and breath the fresh air. Any cognitive behavioural therapist will tell you that you’ll probably never see any of those people again (or even if you do, you likely won’t talk to them), so throw that social anxiety out of the streetcar door and hope that a taxi hits it after ignoring the tiny stop sign like they usually do.
Make a Friend: On a busy streetcar, there are countless to people to avoid making eye contact with. In a situation where one of those people has selfishly farted, a great way to convince at least one person it wasn’t you is through direct eye contact, a shy smile, and a shrug. Basically do what that Jim character from the office does when he’s reacting to any situation. Convincing that one person will give you the confidence to open the window, while you both share a tender moment.
Town Crier: This is an experimental method, but I think it might work. Stand up on the streetcar, arms outstretched, and begin a dramatic speech. I’m thinking something along the lines of: “If I could please have everyone’s attention for a moment. My name is Kirk Heron, and I would like to address an issue that is currently plaguing each and every one of you on this streetcar. Someone has passed gas. We all know it because we can smell it, and yet unless someone admits to it, we will never know who it was. I would like to declare that it wasn’t me, and I am going to open this window in an effort to expedite the diffusion of the gas. I would invite you all to follow my lead, if you care about anything.”
But really, Escape Fartist, all you you really have to do is be a strong, confident person and open the window.
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Kirk Heron is Toronto Standard‘s advice columnist. Follow him on Twitter at @ohnowhattodo.
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