I love farting in elevators.
There’s a kind of rush that comes with the initial: “should I do it?”
And then you realize, “Fuck. I’m the only one in here, what if someone gets in with me?”
Then you quickly try to fan it away to no avail.
Then you try to plan a route of escape, where you rush out of the doors as they open, trying to avoid eye contact.
Or maybe you play it off. You walk out casually, pretending there’s no smel at all. Or do you go, “Goddamn, it smells like shit in there! What died in the elevator shaft?”
I love it.
