There are several miles of Yellowstone Park, definitely more, where the air is graced by mineral presences that describe a tale of week-used porta-potty. Open your windows to be smacked by blurry memories of festival lines ending in uncomfortable small spaces, not to mention what awaited you inside. Here, it’s in vast landscape of hills and mountains, greens and florals, wildlife and weather. In this glorious view and extra fresh air: a smell not unlike several hundred human reliefs simmering in a hot plastic box for days. Earth farts.