October 25, 2011: While
queuing up on the side of the bus heading to the former colonial mining town of
Ouro Preto, I noticed something that was quite concerning. There was a man that had such a wretched odor
that was not seeping from his pores, but more like stuck in his pores waiting
to get onto the bus. He smelled as if he
might have been on a shower strike that past month – maybe two. There are showers in most of the bus stations
here in Brazil so it would have been nice if he bathed before putting on his
fresh clean clothes – as I might be sitting next to him for the next 11.5 hours.
Occupying my seat there was nobody next to me…yet. Calculating the number of seats and the
number of obvious couples and families…I had a strong possibility that he was
going to be my neighbor. “Oh…nooooooooooo,”
I thought. I can just see his ripeness clinging
to me for the next few days and here I too just put on fresh clean clothes.
As he entered the bus, he began his way down the aisle passing
empty seat after empty seat looking at his ticket. Closer and closer he came…each step taken was
that of a snail being filmed in slow motion sliding slowly across aisle. Approaching my seat he pauses, looking up at
the seat numbers. He was educated enough
to thankfully match numbers as his ticket and the open seat next to me was not
a match!
That was so close…so - so close as he sat two rows behind me
next to a different sorry son-of-a-snitch.
I could still smell his ripeness…but at this distance, the odor will be somewhat
bearable after my noises desensitizes. It
would be a wonderful policy at the bus terminal that would require you to
shower before entering a bus, similar to how you are required to shower before
entering a public pool.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
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