Have you ever had one of those times when you walk into the restroom at work or some other public place and it is completely empty.... except for a big, brown cloud of toxic gas that fills the air? The REALLY bad kind. Like the all caps, bolded, italicized, nose-frying, eye-singeing kind of bad.
Unfortunately you lingered too long before answering nature's call to switch ladies rooms because word has already reached your bladder that recess time is imminent! Like immediately imminent!
You are left with no choice but to hold your breath, whip down your pants and relay the need for efficiency to your pottying parts. Predictably, your ureter immediately clamps down to the width of a mosquito knee so that you pee at about 440 psi, therefore eliminating all hope of cutting the process short even as you start to see stars from lack of oxygen.
Not wanting to pass out and be found face down on the filthy floor, bad side up, sans pants, you resume breathing just before your eyes start to roll back in your head and now you are inhaling the nauseating smell which is making your lunch bubble up a bit in the back of your throat. Thinking that you will never again be able to eat Indian food, you continue your business and try to focus on not throwing up by contemplating what the Bathroom Bomber could have possibly eaten to cause such an epic stench.
You are red-faced, sweating and looking quite miserable with runny mascara and pants that probably aren't properly fastened when you finally blast out the bathroom door.... only to run into someone that you don't know quite well enough to point into the room and gasp "OMG, that was SO not me!"
And so you imagine that the person proceeds into the restroom, is assaulted by the odor, recalls your disheveled appearance and the chicken vindaloo she saw you nuking earlier in the break room and thinks 'I will never, EVER eat Indian Food again!'