FREQUENT FLYER FLATULENCE

I wasn't going to cover the story about the flatulent woman who lit matches on an American Airlines flight to cover her foul smells (forcing the pilot to make an emergency landing), but readers have been insisting I do. It seemed too sophomoric for PNL however, there are constitutional issues at play here, so I am making a one-time exception.

That an in-flight passenger would be deplaned prematurely for attempting to remedy an ill wind, most would agree, infringes on self-incrimination protections. After all, one cannot pop a mint after one's nether region betrays one. It does no good to close the barn doors after ole Nelly is on the loose. And mint suppositories have not, to my knowledge, been invented.

There are cover-up sprays, but airlines have banned aerosols. The only proven way to eliminate cheek gas is to incinerate it. We can't put the genie back in the bottle, but we can scald the rude intruder. For those wanting to land with the plane, there are other methods.

A frequent-flyer friend of mine tells me he unscrews and aims the overhead fan nozzle when he needs to dissipate his trouser burps. While the odor is not vented outside the plane, it does get pushed across the aisle, where he can then look in dismay at its new owner.

A couple of words of caution, however. This method of vectoring fouled air works only if you're in an aisle seat. And on long, cross-country flights, the "Vector-and-Dismay" method gets old. At this point, either a seat reassignment, or an antacid is recommended.

Once, while experiencing turbulence on flight to San Diego, I unknowingly passed such offensive gas, all 319 oxygen masks but mine dropped down. "Hey, where's my mask?" I called out, playing the call button like clarinet.

Foolish me thought it was an emergency depressurization event! Your own never smell so bad. Besides, who knew they could selectively drop the breathing apparatus? Did the pilots program each of the 319 face masks to drop individually -- or simply deactivate mine, I wondered. They obviously have too much time on their hands.

Anyway, after permanently disabling my call button, my stewardess assured me my oxygen mask would have deployed properly -- had it been authorized. It took the flight attendants from Dallas to Bakersfield to stuff all 319 face masks back into their 319 little overhead cubbies.

Aside from being rammed a few times by the food cart, I think I was forgiven. But this got me to thinking, why not use the oxygen masks routinely to counter smelly accidents and food? Airlines could even charge a few bucks for them, as they do for head sets.

I have an aging dog who, on long car trips, fills the cabin with bad air. Even in winter, my family is forced to ride with the windows half-open. In stop and go traffic, we take turns doing Chinese fire drills in order to breathe.

Fouling the air is embarrassing, even for a dog. After passing wind, our old pooch will attempt to hide, which in a car (or an elevator) is hard to do. He tries to dig a hole in the fine Corinthian leather that was my back seat, presumably to den. Our other dog, though a butt sniffer, is intolerant of butt air, so he rides in the trunk. On planes, both go third class: cargo.

Richard Reid, the would-be Shoe-Bomber, ruined it for all in-flight, flatulent match-strikers. Airline passengers associate the smell of burnt matches with real bombs and will panic at the sight of a matchbook. Long gone are the good old days, when fliers could just light up and blow smoke rings out both ends.

Someday plane seats will be designed with negative pressure pores that suck away that embarrassing fruit of the looms. Until that time, flatulent flyers could simply be Glad-bagged. While there are government rules against photographing deplaned body bags, there are no restrictions on ones containing live bodies. Best of all, the large 750-liter bags come in twist-tie or zip-lock versions.

Bagging offensive air passengers would not only give them a dose of their own medicine, it would eliminate the need for unscheduled stops.