I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry for the woman at the "scenter" of this story. (Sorry, I couldn’t help it!)
Now I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve *wished* I could get off a plane because my seatmate was Farty McRipperton. But I don’t think I’d want to go through the ordeal of an emergency-landing and a full security and luggage screening because of it. That’s what mouth-breathing is for.