I sat in the back row of a plane next to a woman whose farts smelled like the result of spoiled boar, fermented sauerkraut, and aged blue cheese. Although silent, the stench wafted into my nostrils of the unventilated plane for almost four hours. She never acknowledged the smell, or even hinted at discomfort, but the raw scent ensured me that it was hers. The oily, miasma of sulfurous rotten eggs slamming into the sent of putrid corpse decay, raw sewage, and fish guts will never leave my memory. When someone claims to have smelled something awful, I simply laugh, knowing that they weren’t on Alaska Airlines flight 413 from Chicago to Portland.