In an otherwise abandoned gate, I am sitting directly across from a man who is skyping loudly with his large family—Haley, Griffin, Benji and Dana at least—about his stomach troubles. I learn what the man ate for breakfast, lunch and dinner last night. Dinner was good—steak!—and though it wasn't "that much food," he felt "just stuffed."
Then, "I went back to the room and just farted up a storm. It felt great."