Apparently you can fart it up, blow out the bathroom, clear gobs of mucus from your throat, smell like you accidentally drank four bottles of Eau De Drakkar, blast your stupid-ass whatever music out your ipod, and let your baby/toddler scream into my ear on a flight.
But God forbid you breastfeed.
In the back. By the window. Next to your husband.
*And here's the best take on all this that I've read.