Just so there’s no misunderstanding, these are not real farts. The sounds are being made using a device held in a hand and concealed.
When I fart in a pod, I feel the distinct pleasure of knowing a piece of me is lingering around for hours and hours to be enjoyed by the masses. It is social egalitarianism at its finest. And such pleasures have been celebrated in literature for centuries: Farts in folktales (improbable.com)
That’s beautiful. I feel you should write a fitting poem.
In a plastic pod, people passing by,
A required journey, before reaching for the sky.
But amidst the passing, a tale to be told,
Of a fart’s escape, and its lingering hold.
Within these tight confines, as people cram,
A silent intruder, a pungent little lamb.
Its presence revealed, with a subtle sound,
Leaving noses wrinkled, expressions profound.
Oh, the aroma, like a foggy haze,
Within this tiny space, a smelly feces maze.
Sharting erupts, as discomfort ensues,
In this pod where the air accrues.
People exchange glances, stifling a grin,
Trying to contain the laughter within.
But the smell persists, it lingers so,
Tickling our senses, a comedic show.
A dirty adventure, both strange and grand,
With a fart’s presence, oh so unplanned.
So let us remember, in this confined space,
A fart or a shart can bring pleasure, in its own embrace.
Best line, in my opinion.
Hilariously British sounding suggestion for a non British person. “I suggest perhaps”. Good old traditional non direct speech. 
The interaction with the owners is priceless. You really got to have balls to do this. Anyway, trying not to laugh too hard at work.
Laughing my, well, ass off.
