SMELLY

Aaah! The relief of the train doors opening! The unfettered joy of cold, fresh air washing over me!

As he entered the carriage my senses immediately raised the alarm. This was unfair; he had done nothing wrong. But when he sat next to me my senses were right to be scared. My eyes rolled and watered; my nostril fibres baulked in anguish; and my body convulsed. I was under a full-frontal attack of stench.

His garlic breathe was overwhelming. I felt like my nasal lining was alight and scar tissue was being cut into the back of my throat. My mind swam; I was heading for the dark side. Fear then consumed me; that the odour was impregnating the fabric of my clothes.

We pulled into the next stop where my very being craved emergency assistance; anything to neutralize the sensory molestation. A cool breeze again swept over me, filling my gasping lungs with air, like an oxygen-depleted scuba-diver breaking the water’s surface and feeling re-born. But alas, as the doors closed, a crushing wave of hum washed over my head, once more taking me under.

The next stop was ten minutes away. I feared I could not survive that long in this straightjacket of rancidness. I closed my eyes and tried to enter a hitherto unexplored spiritual world where only minimal respitory function was required. I sadly failed and had to take deep breathes to recuperate equilibrium, thereby digesting more putrid, garlic-infested air.

Relief, though, was surely at hand. The next stop was a major drop-off point before the train’s final destination where I was heading. Surely, he would get off here and afford me an early parole? But no! Moreover, the opposite doors opened this time and no relieving breeze came to my rescue.

The journey to the final stop only takes four minutes. It felt like forty. The life-blood had drained from me. The debilitating odour had crushed my will to breathe. When the train stopped and everyone began to alight, including Stinky, I sat there, taking a moment to myself. I felt simultaneously dirty but strangely, free.

I told people at work what had happened. Most laughed, some sympathised but a few offered workable solutions:

Wear a smog mask. This will at least provide nasal and throat protection and a clear visual message to the rank offender

Dab perfume or cologne under your nose and around your face to battle with the pong for supremacy, and again provide a layer of sense protection

Carry fabric freshener along with personal hygiene products to compliment the brave work of the perfume or cologne on the pungent front line

Offer to the rancid one, strong mints. This latter option should be accompanied by advising Stinky that their breathe is a civil tragedy and that some consideration of others wouldn’t go amiss. This, of course, is not a cure. But it will make you feel a whole lot better!