Today, I was yelled at by a man because I had on a sourpuss face.
I was walking behind someone who was smoking. It was a particularly smelly and disgusting cigarette. Most of the time outdoors smoking doesn't bother me but I have no idea what kind of carpet fibers and cat litter this guy was smoking, it was NASTY. I was trying to get around him, trying to figure out a way to stop breathing. I knew I had on a great horrible "feh" facial expression. I could feel it all over me. My disdain was creeping down into my chest, my throat, and I felt like I might just lean over and puke into the parking lane (it wouldn't be the first time the parking lane outside South Station was puked upon...)
A man walking in the opposite direction, towards me, slowed down enough to make eye contact. He had this distinct look of incredulity on his face, and as I got closer, he said "What the FUCK is your problem? SMILE FOR GOD'S SAKE ALREADY! IT IS A BEAUTIFUL DAY!" With the last line he threw his arms up in the air, and continued on his way.
Not exactly my idea of spreading kindness and good cheer in the streets of Boston but ... I guess my face called for something. And in spite of the stench, I couldn't help but start laughing.
Crossed the street immediately and got whiffs of diesel, coffee, the Channel and sunshine. Which all smelled much better and subdued my desire to vomit.
Yesterday's smell fest only got worse. Somehow a sewer stench was coming up our elevator shaft. The receptionist on the main level truly had it bad having to spend the day there sniffing it, and dealing with the people coming in asking what the smell was. Someone microwaved something awful. That was great. Then, there was the burned popcorn.
Something I did not miss about working in an office building was other people's food choices and burned popcorn.
The Subway had a special dose of fresh hell for me in the form of a particularly gorgeous woman standing beside me with the worst breath I've ever smelled in my life. I thought it was me so I had a piece of gum. I should have offered her one, because it was not me.
On the way home, I told Doug about all of my olfactory insults. We were on I-95 just north of our former exit, headed towards Newburyport. My guess is we were still in Georgetown, possibly Byfield, maybe even in Newbury.
The smell entered the car - we weren't sure if we'd passed very ripe roadkill, an overturned trash truck, an kicked over porta pottie from the construction going on or what. The gaseous cloud invaded the vehicle. We started screaming. Doug rolled the windows down to get air circulating through the car. The freezing cold air was rank. We ran for miles up the highway yelling at the top of our lungs about the stink.
"This truly is the smelliest day ever!" my husband yelled at the top of his lungs.
Eventually, the stench faded. We put the windows back up. I thought maybe the smell had sunk into my clothing, my pores. It was horrifying.
Indeed. Yesterday was the smelliest day ever.