I walked into the retail store in anticipation of finding a few items that will be necessary to get a few early spring projects off the ground. As per usual, the store is packed and even if someone were available, they normally aren't capable of helping. In fact, more often than not, you are far better off browsing on your own.
My previous experience in this store leads me in the right direction, so I manage to gather the few items I needed and headed towards the check out lines in record time. As I round the corner I realize that I am doomed. There are check out lines open and the shortest of the group had at least 9 people in it. And really, this is par for this particular store. The only convenience of this inconvenience is, all 3 lines are next to each other, so one could bounce to another line if it seems to be moving quicker.
What became abundantly clear as the most unfortunate inconvenience is, there were going to be a lot of people standing in close proximity of one another. That potentially adds all kinds of challenges.
Unbeknownst to me, the group of us were going to be playing a wonderful game of "What's That Smell". Truthfully, nobody want to play this game. You just end up being involuntarily added to the mix once you get a whiff of something troubling while standing in a group of people. Out of nowhere, I get that whiff and all of a sudden it is game on.
Now, I don't know if this has ever happened to you. I hope it has because I am going to feel real bad if it is only me who has this tricky sense of smell.... but have you ever caught a whiff of something and not have the immediate ability to discern if the smell is good or foul? I have that ability and this was the case. On first whiff I thought, "who's eating the sandwich?" and then it dawns on me. Someone either farted or shit their pants! The longer the smell sat around, the more putrid it smelled.
Being a guy, I sometimes find a good fart as funny. This was not the case in this scenario. I look to my left and this poor ladies eyes are watering. Behind me and to the right I hear a muffled "Jesus Christ." I knew it didn't pertain to the length of the line. It was directed at the odor and it was worthy of using the lords name in vane. I gagged. I gagged so hard that the guy in front of me kind of jumped and moonwalked at the same time to avoid being puked on. (I'd never seen a move like that.)
Then, the thought of it not being a fart or someone shitting their pants crossed my mind. "What if this is normal for them?", I think. I survey the crowd. I hear a baby crying and watch the mother stretch her coat over the child carrier in order to try to make a smell proof barrier. "Too late, lady" is the thought that ran through my mind. And old guy is shaking his head, not necessarily in disapproval however. He seemed oddly envious of the odiferous air. The lady directly behind me jumps out of line and makes tracks to the laundry detergent where she quickly ripped a lid off of a container and jammed her nose in the open jug. A nice, younger Mexican couple said something I could not understand and they simply left their cart full of items and scurried towards the exits. (I think she may have been crying because of the smell.) I hear some tennis shoes squeak as they come to an abrupt stop behind me and hear a mans voice say "Whoa!" and watch this man do a quick pivot and leave the area as fast as he can.
The smell is even worse now. It smells like a cross of bad Indian food way too rich of curry, hot garbage, mashed onions and cat pee. People are sweating. One lady looks faint. A store employee comes sneaking by, obviously in a recon mission to determine the cause of this odor. He too is stopped in his tracks. Then it hits me.... "What if this smell is me!". Panic mode sets in. I mean, surely I would know if I farted. I recently had a birthday but I was positive that I still had the ability to realize if I farted or shit my britches! The fear got worse. I thought, "What if I didn't shit my pants and this was body odor?". At this point, I hope to high heavens if it is me, I hope I shit my pants because the thought of this being body odor was too much to accept. (How often to you hope you shit your pants? You know what I mean?)
To make sure, I do the old, "I'll just itch my chin on my shoulder and smell my arm pit" maneuver and fortunately enough the smell was NOT coming from me. Relief sets in until I remember that this is a dire situation. At this point the lines have only moved forward 2-3 people and this smell has been around long enough to have been given a proper name. I chuckle as I think of the fact of someone starting a college fund for this smell like they would a kid.
Just then, a man stands up. He had apparently been bent over looking that one of the magazines. He had a smile like a picket fence. His nose was crooked. His glasses sat askew on his face. His shirt looked like a dead cat.... it had to be him. I look over my shoulder to the lady who ran for the detergent and then nod towards the guy in the front of the line. "Oh yeah" she says. I hear her speak to the man to her left and he too agrees. I mean, the guy looked guilty and was the only person who looked as if he could have eaten whatever in the hell that smell was.
As this man pays for his purchase, the poor clerk cannot speak as she hands him his change. I think she may have been having a seizure. She quickly grabbed a canister of sanitizing wipes and ripped a wipe from the opening and shoved it to her face. She took a giant whiff in an apparent effort to bring herself back around to her senses and quickly wiped the counter where the man had been resting his hands. I noticed that the baby had quit crying and I was hoping that the poor child had not perished.
I noticed that none of the 3 clerks were asking anyone "How are you doing today?" anymore. They knew. They knew damned well how we were doing. At this point the crowd began acting like we all had lived through a natural disaster together. People were hugging, shaking hands and thanking other people for the support they provided. For a second, I thought the clerks were just going to let us all walk out with our purchases because of what we endured together. It would have been a nice touch, but it didn't happen.
As I step up to the counter, thankfully the smell was dissapating. I finally really knew that I was vindicated. No speech was necessary. The clerk scanned my purchase and I used my debit card to make the transaction as fast as possible. As I grabbed my purchase I looked back on the people that I was leaving behind. I kind of waved a "bon voyage" type of wave. Some waved back and some simply nodded but we all knew we barely got out of this situation alive.
I began therapy for PTSD 2 weeks after this situation and am proud to say that I can finally sleep through the night again. I just hope everyone of the other survivors got the help they would need in order to find the strength to move on.
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