The Girl in the Computer Lab, the Empty Seat, and the Fart That Changed My Life

Mid-semester break hits differently when you are a Lancaster student.

Everyone else is sleeping in, catching up on Netflix, or pretending they will start their assignments tomorrow. Me? I decided to be productive. The computer lab at NUB was quiet, the air-conditioning was working, and I had actual work to do. This was going to be my week.

I walked in feeling good about myself.

That is when I saw her.

Sitting alone at a workstation, fully focused, typing away at what I can only assume was a very important assignment. Pretty. Composed. Completely unbothered by the existence of other human beings. The kind of person who actually uses mid-semester break for its intended purpose.

I did what any reasonable person would do. I sat directly opposite her, opened my laptop, and proceeded to do approximately fifteen minutes of actual work while spending the remaining time finding increasingly creative reasons to glance up from my screen.

We were the only two people in the lab. The silence was peaceful. Comfortable, even. A nice moment between two dedicated students making the most of their academic break.

And then.

PUUUUUUUUUUT.

Now. I want to be very clear about something. It was not me. I know how this sounds. Everyone who has ever been in this situation says it was not them. But I have a verifiable alibi: I had already lao Sai earlier that day. The system was empty. I was running on fumes, spiritually and literally. Whatever that sound was, it did not come from me.

It came from her.

Time stopped. We locked eyes across the computer lab in a moment of shared, horrified recognition. Two students. One unexplained event. Zero easy ways to proceed.

Then she grabbed her things, laptop, bag, probably her entire future, and walked out of the computer lab at a pace that was technically not running but was spiritually absolutely running. Gone. Into the mid-semester break afternoon. Never to return.

I sat there alone in the suddenly very quiet lab, with my laptop open and my work half-done, processing what had just happened.

And here is the thing I have to be honest about.

It smelled incredible.

I do not know how else to say this. I do not know what she ate. I do not know what combination of food, timing, and atmospheric conditions produced what I experienced in that computer lab on that quiet Wednesday afternoon. But it was, without any exaggeration, the best-smelling fart I have encountered in my twenty-something years on this earth.

It smelled like potential. Like warmth. Like a home-cooked meal I have never had but somehow remember.

So if you are reading this, girl from the NUB computer lab during Lancaster mid-semester break, I need you to know a few things.

First: there is no shame in what happened. It was a natural human event. The computer lab was empty. You could not have anticipated witnesses. These things occur.

Second: you did not have to run. I was not judging you. I was, if anything, impressed.

Third, and most importantly: please tell me what you ate. I am being completely sincere. Whatever dietary choices you made in the 24 hours before that moment in the computer lab, the meal, the snacks, the drink, whatever combination of ingredients aligned to produce that particular olfactory experience, I need that information. For personal use. For research purposes. For the good of everyone who will ever share an enclosed space with me.

I will be back in the computer lab next mid-semester break.

I will be hoping you return too.