People To Avoid At The Gym: The Whey-Powered Fart Wagon
Welcome to "People To Avoid At The Gym," a weekly series where we'll be highlighting people you should avoid at the gym. Last week, we chronicled the Screaming Bro. This week: The Whey-Powered Fart Wagon.
You know what's fun? Finishing a long day of work, strapping on your gym bag, hopping onto a crowded subway, getting to your local fitness center... and walking into a hot zone.
Except this isn't a Richard Preston novel. A real-time biological event is unfolding, spurred on by someone's decision to load up on beef and whey protein and go wreck shit at the gym. Unfortunately, the only things getting wrecked are his stomach and his underwear.
Listen closely if you want to avoid the blast radius.
Oh my God. What is that smell? See that self-conscious dude by the free weights who's not staying in one spot for more than two seconds? It's him.
Jeez. It smells like a diaper full of Indian food. Right?
Why does it smell so bad? In a misguided attempt to "bulk up a little bit during winter," the bro in question hurried home from class or work, shoveled down a plate of ground beef and brown rice, and then topped it off with a Myoplex Isolate shake. As a result, a dirty bomb is now brewing in his stomach, courtesy of your local supermarket and the chemical engineers at GNC.
Wait... why did he eat all that right before working out? Because he was flipping channels the other night, saw The Rock on Monday Night Raw, and decided he needs to not have a neck anymore. Then he read a Men's Health article about pre-workout cattle loading, and it being one of 5 keys to adding mass and banging MILFs.
Unfortunately, the only mass being added is to the Depends he now has to wear due to his high-fiber, high-protein diet. Plop.
Gross. Are there offshoots of the Whey-Powered Fart Wagon I should be aware of? Yes: the Party Time Fart Train. The Party Time Fart Train is like an evolved Pokemon of the Whey-Powered Fart Wagon -- he's left the gym, and decides to drink a quick shake before heading out to get loaded. Alas, this means the farting continues at whatever bar he decides to go to. Pro tip if you live in Manhattan: avoid place on Second Avenue, unless you want to open the door and be eaten by farts.
I'm at the gym and I don't want to be eaten by farts. What are the Whey-Powered Wagon's identifiable traits? If you're close enough to smell him, you're already dead. Focus on what you can see from afar: is he carrying around a huge thermos of Swiss Chocolate Total Lean? Is he not making eye contact with anyone? Does he look like a guy who's ashamed of what his body is doing? If yes, AVOID.
Okay, I've ID'd him. He's over at the next station. Crap! What?
The cute girl at my gym is coming over! She's going to think I'm the Farter! Oh no!
What do I do? You're going to have to hope she's sexually attracted to farts.
Dude, seriously! I've wanted to talk to her for weeks! Fine, but you're not going to like my suggestion.
Just tell me! Fine. Wait until she's close, then scrunch up your face, turn towards the Wagon, and say, "Dude. You smell... like shit."
That's so mean. I know!
I can't do that. You must.
Guhhh. Fine. I'm doing it. Can't believe you're actually doing it.
I did it. She laughed at the guy and then looked at him like he was gross, so I think I'm in the clear. But he looks really, really sad now. It's his fault for turning himself into a rainforest of wet farts. You did the right thing.
Illustration by Sean Panzera.
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