Musings of a Drunken Monk

Like many sanity-conscious Boston commuters, I choose to forgo the living hell that is the Boston auto commute and I take the (sarcasm alert!) wonderful, clean, efficient (end sarcasm) MBTA to and from work every day. The problem is, however, that the T really isn't that much more relaxing than doing the whole "sit in traffic and fume" thing. Instead of sitting in your well-appointed vehicle, you sit on a duct-taped seat next to some fat guy who takes up half of your seat, and you try desperately to be interested in the news you're reading. Or, even worse, you could be standing in the middle of the morning pack, not even able to hold onto one of the "safety" poles when your crack-addled train driver brings the multi-thousand-ton train to a screeching halt.

But I have yet to delve into the real reason why you're here. You (arguably) want to hear me rant about the guy (or girl, but less likely) on the train whom everybody hates: the stinky guy. I bring this up because it seems that quite regularly I get caught on the train (along with scores of other people) along with someone who really smells. I mean we're talking smells like "want to get off at the next stop and change cars" smells. Of course, you realize, something this very morning must have triggered this rant. Indeed, my fair reader, indeed (I've always wanted to say that). This morning's misadventure was much like Sunday's misadventure with a smelly hitch-hiker: completely beyond my control and more affected by the planetary alignments rather than my will. It was, by T standards, quite normal, being that I was stuck in the weird swivelling section of the Green Line train that I have only witnessed in Boston. Apparently, some bonehead, knowing that he had a captive (literally) audience, let one rip. A nice gag-inducing stinker. The question I ask is this: what kind of jerk decides to let these things out in crowded, non-ventilated spaces? You know everyone will suffer (including you). It's the same thing as "passing gas" in the elevator. Just don't do it. But of course, this bonehead thought it would be a neat trick and maybe it would be the "non-smelly kind." Boy were you ever wrong, jackass!

Of course, there also tends to be a problem with people who are just plain stinky. Most often there's the alcoholic looks-homeless guy without teeth who inevitably has the one empty seat next to him (I wonder why) and inevitably some poor hapless asian girl sits next to him and is forced to talk to him for the remainder of her ride. I kid you not, every time I see this, it is some asian girl who is presumably not from this country and has not had the courtesy sucked straight out of her like the rest of us have. You want to help, but you figure it's best to leave the situation alone. After all, he's stinky and you're secretly glad she serves as a stink-buffer. You also have occurrences of the really sweaty gym guy, the perfume queen, and the French girl I dated six years ago. If you've ever been trapped somewhere like the train with someone stinky, you know what I'm talking about. And if you haven't, just imagine walking onto the train, the doors closing behind you (invokes images of one of those haunted-house movies, eh?), and a suspiciously fishy odor wafting over you like a frenzied school of jellyfish. Yeah, now you feel it. Who's complaining now!