Roll down the windows!
The only place my family ever vacationed was Las Vegas as my father was addicted to Pai-Gow Poker. On the morning before our depature my Mom took us to a 99 cent all-you-can-eat breakfast at a sleazy hotel off the strip. I must have ate about a pound of eggs and had two glasses of whole milk. Usualy at home we drank the non-fat variety. The breakfast was quite tasty and satisfing.

The drive from Vegas back to Los Angeles is about 4 hours long. It was August so it was about 40c in the Nevada desert outside. I sat in the back row of our Toyota Previa mini van. My sister was in the middle row and my parents up front. The first fart crept out of my ass about 45 minutes into the trip. The smell was indescribable. My eyes burned and I started giggling, knowing that my family would be experiencing my flavor soon. My sister started screaming and my parents got about half-way trhough asking her what was wrong before they started screaming too. The mini van's rear windows didn't roll down and my father refused to roll the windows down up front and lose the cool air. I farted about once every five minutes as the van marinated in my stench. My fart smells just kept getting worse and worse. After 2 hours of this my father was finally forced to roll down the window because he was throwing up.

And that's how I learned I was lactose intolerent. For the years after that I was expressly forbidden to drink any milk before the ride to Vegas and back.
(anotherlogan and the whit he shites, Fri 3 Aug 2007, 0:22, Reply)