Sometimes you’re so hot and tired from the cane fields you just want to go into the air conditioning and lay down. But you can’t. There is no air conditioning. Just your wife’s big round butt and its periodic eruptions of foul, noxious gasses that hang unmoving in the stifling thick air. It might as well be the smells and sounds of a thousand dirty men making a thousand dirty bowel movements up and down the tier.