The Joy and Agony of Flatulence

Yes, this post is about breaking wind.
I'm a grown adult, and this is actually a subject that frequently arises in prison.

If you had a reasonably happy childhood, you may remember when your growers put you into a wash basin to clean you. At a young age, you may have passed gas into that basin, and been surprised that you're blowing bubbles. It might have made you laugh with delight, or perhaps it startled you. You might have seen a cartoon or a movie where a character 'talks' out their backside in a similar manner, too.
At that time, you may have also quickly learned that the posterior released air that smells bad. You may be taught then that you just don't do that around people if at all possible: it's considered bad manners.

Growing a bit older, you learned more about how it alleviated pressure, sometimes resetting the, ahem, shot clock on how badly you might need to make use of facilities that may not be readily available.

All of that leads to this:
I am housed with 95 other people in a wing, and I would swear that several people in this place think they have crop dusting licenses.
Sitting in the day room and working on assignments or letters, the air grows foul as someone breezes on by, using their turdo boost to pass by others walking laps and passing gas.

To that end, some of the men I've encountered here are quite proud of their low height toot clouds, some of which can clear a table in the day room and prompt a rather loud commentary from less politely spoken residents offering "some toilet paper for the person who just s--t himself" as at least one person has shouted.

I get it, sometimes flatulence slips; been there, done that. But as a person in a prison, I bring the following observations to those who have not seen what prison really looks like behind the wires:

• We live in a place with a plenitude of (seemingly jet powered) toilets that are usually readily accessible, so long as we are not in a census count or on lockdown.
• We regularly receive toilet paper and other basic hygiene effects.

This leads to the following wonderment:

Is it difficult to alleviate the need to pass gas around others? I mean, there ARE toilets...

Maybe, as I work on my karuna practice, I should understand that some of these beings are people who weren't taught this bit of social etiquette.
It's possible that they were taught the idea that it is humorous to, ahem, spray the tanks around others, or something to that effect.
Or maybe this is a person who does know, but does not care: they learned that only humans seem to care about not letting it rip next to others, but prison regards them as subhuman or as animals; so why care about that human rule?

Maybe I'm thinking about it from the mindset of my wheelchair using neighbor, whose head rolls around at that height when he's in his chair in our day room.

If only our crop dusters got to experience the same thing they do to others. Maybe they would refrain on doing it intentionally in the future...

Less passing gas, more 🎶 Passing Breeze -- Hiroshi "HIRO" KAWAGUCHI, please.