Childish? Unnecessary? Sophomoric? No. Not at all. Listen, fart jokes are fart jokes and we’ve all heard our share but they exist for a reason—a fart is a real thing with real consequences and there are some places where farts just shouldn’t be happening. Places where people with tact and grace would never fart (graceful, tactful people fart at Jollibee). For your definitive list of fart etiquette, you’ve come to the right place. These are the worst places to put up with someone else’s errant wind.


As anyone who’s ever farted in a pool or tub knows, the combination of tepid water and digested stew makes for a potent mix of nasty. Why does the addition of water make it worse? No one knows. Science suggests that it condenses the evil spirits produced by your O-ring but I think that’s just hokum. That said, it’s undeniable that, if you’re in a pool and someone plots gaseous inhumanity, it’s so bad. It’s just so bad.

Never fart in a pool if you can avoid it. If you had any idea how much fecal matter is already in the pool you’re in (the CDC says about 58% of pools are contaminated with fecal matter and that doesn’t come from pools, man. That comes from poop flingers going for a swim), you’d never want to swim again let alone loosen your sphincter enough to release a fart lest a kind of suction be created in the aftermath and suck some of that unholy poo water back inside you. Do you want someone else’s shit in your ass? Do you?


The addition of the word “glass” may give you pause here but it’s for a reason. Yes, farting in an elevator is uncouth and unwelcome but a glass elevator is like a magnifying glass for shame. A glass elevator allows the world, even if no one knows about it, to see you trapped in a fart cube. You’re like a guinea pig at the pet store, there to be ogled in your sadness and stank. And the person who farted won’t apologize; they’ll just stand there staring forward like a goon pretending it didn’t happen. 

If there are at least 3 people in the elevator they may be able to get away with that but it still happens if it’s just the two of you. You ever been in an elevator with one other person when they fart and refuse to acknowledge it, and you’re just boggled by both the way a tiny room amplifies stink and also by how this person refuses to acknowledge the truth of the situation? We all blame farts on other people, the dog, a bog we’re walking past, but if it’s just two people it can’t be done.  You hear me, serial farters? If no one else is in the room with us, we both automatically know who did it so don’t be an asshole about it.


The sadness of farting during a sexual encounter has no measure. In fact, I like to think Germans have their own word that has no other meaning than to express the awkward disappointment one feels in one’s self when they fart during a sexual encounter. English needs that word.

No matter how into the other person you are, the moment you’re exploring their nether crevices with your face and the sound of a bear playing trumpet announces the presence of the smell of yesterday’s onion soup steeped in roast beef, you’re going to recoil in a panic and that, in turn, makes the other person feel self conscious, offended and embarrassed all in one.


Where do you keep your popcorn when you’re at the movies? If you keep it between your legs, then you already have a dry heave in the works for just the thought of a fart-permeated bucket of buttery, salty kernels, the smell wafting up to your nose like a dairy cow just shat across the room and you’re snacking on it.

And even if you’re not eating popcorn, the very act of anyone farting in that enclosed space when you’re all together in the dark, sipping tub-sized sodas and eating peanut M&Ms, struggling over arm rests and trying not to breathe in other people’s breath, let alone their ass air, is awful.


The cruelty of farting in a car is on par with straight out punching someone for no reason and then staring them down until they leave as though they were the ones that did something wrong. A fart in a pool or at the movies or anywhere else has one thing going for it that a car aft doesn’t have: location. You can leave the pool, get off the elevator, disengage from fart sex, but suppose you’re the passenger in a Toyota Vios and the driver lets loose. You literally have no choice but to deal with it until such time as the driver is willing to stop driving. Your fate is in the hands of the kind of person who farts in a small car. Sure you can open a window but you know as well as I do that the first gust of wind is actually going to push that fart further up your nose. Don’t fart in the car, man. Don’t.

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