So, after you've finished Freakonomics and re-read, giggling uncontrollably, the best essays in David Rakoff's Fraud, there's little else to do — apart from gagging at the overwhelming stench coming from the woman sitting right in front of you who evidently emptied her bowels into either her adult diaper or her improperly-sealed colostomy bag at least three times during the flight — other than imagine small, Tyler Durdenesque anarchies you can perpetrate on future passengers who'll occupy your seat.

Like altering the emergency procedures brochure to now include the identification of the flight-mishap victims with friends' names. And placing your used-up chewing gum to form a perfect and very resilient seal along the opening to the barf bag in the seat pocket in front of you.

Hey, you're here to help.