Just tonight I was affronted by this pet peeve. As I treaded innocently away on a treadmill someone in my immediate vicinity slipped in the old "oh, no one will no it was me" bomb that could have cleared out a shopping mall. Of course you're stuck - rancid gases are filling your noise and you can look viciously this way and that, but there is no escape and truly no retaliation. Ultimately you can't say for certain who opened up the old gas lines, but you would like to give them a piece of your mind.
Health clubs are notorious for this type of crop dusting. As are airplanes (the one place where you really have no escape and no clear answer on who cut the brie). This type air biscuit is nearly unforgivable. A stranger asking you to pull their finger is more pardonable - at least it is an honest transaction.
Somehow this sinister and silent gas is always of the foulest and most putrid character. And it often seems to come from the most innocent looking offenders. Tonight the women next to me, and most likely the loaded gun, was in a sleek Nike get-up with toned abs and a full face of make-up. The toned abs make it even worse - you know she had the capabilities to hold it if she wanted to. For God's sake, stop the treadmill if you have to. Someone with a pacemaker could have been put down by that rotten egg. Clench a muscle - I beg you!