They all have in common that they are bacteria caused by bowel and feces.
Vomit and feces are two reason I have decided not to procreate.
The air is annoyingly potted with a multitude of minor vertical disturbances which sicken the passengers and keep us captives of our seat belts. We sweat in the cockpit, though much of the time we fly with the side windows open. The airplanes smell of hot oil and simmering aluminum, disinfectant, feces, leather, and puke. . . the stewardesses, short-tempered and reeking of vomit, come forward as often as they can for what is a breath of comparatively fresh air.
All you need is a [insert plant], some [insert stick rock animal feces], and a good multitool.
I watched the piles of feces go up the conveyor belt. . . They made their way through the machine. . . A few minutes later I took a long taste of the end result: a glass of delicious drinking water.