Dear Sir

Dear Sir;

On behalf of flight attendants and humanity in general I plead with you to take this into consideration next time you fly.

Save your gut-busting, vomit inducing, God-awful bowel movements until you have exited the plane. Please. Please save me from another episode of dry-heaving into the corner.

I'm not sure if you've noticed, but we're inside a sealed metal tube, 41,000 feet in the air. There is no where for us to go. Once you've completed a mass exodus from the depths of your colon, we are forced to sit in the stench of it, work it in and for some of us in particular, gag in it while rolled up in fetal position.

I know that sometimes there are emergencies, but please keep in mind that I don't follow you into work and crap on your desk.

Use your discretion.