Intro- I got out of my seat for an elderly lady or all of the seats were taken. I don’t really remember but either way I found myself standing on the J with my right arm up holding on to the bar above me. I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
Enter the Villain: By the Civic Center stop the J was packed. People were all around and most dressed up like they were interviewing for Wamu before it ate shit. Including the man next to me wearing a navy suit holding a briefcase with his left hand and grabbing the bar above him with his right hand.
The Unwanted Gift: At the first outbound stop (Market/Church) things turned for the worse. Seconds after the doors opened and air shot into the J it became very apparent that there was a funk in the Muni. It was the European delicacy of BO. Someone had forgot to rock their Right Guard and there was an unadulterated stench in the air. In fact this was some of the most wicked body odor this side of Paris. Passengers instantly were on the lookout for the culprit.
Redux: By the next stop the odor had slightly subsided but when those doors swung open and outside air rushed in the BO punched us out like an 87’ Tyson fight. The doors closed and passengers once again turned their Odor Radar on. The consensus showed that ground zero was very close to me and after I gave a few very strong sniffs it became clear to me. The offender was none other than Navy Suit Man!
Wrongfully Convicted: As the passengers focused in on the battle zone they were left with two options. Was it the well-dressed businessman in the navy suit or the kid in jeans and t-shirt? The profiling began and I’m sure you can guess who was getting the dirty looks. Yup, people young and old, all colors, even homeless dudes were shaking their heads at me. I had no defense just an inner hatred for the man next to me.
The Gift that Keeps on Giving: Unlike other short lived smells that come from the body such as ones below the waist and on the backside of you BO from the arm pits doesn’t give up easy. It’s like a relentless bulldog that you can’t release from the throat of a shitty Paris Hilton dog. And at every single stop when those doors swung open and air came in the odor grenade would blow up the J. I think one lady even passed out at the Dolores stop.
The Cloud is Lifted/ a Child Reborn: At two stops before 24th Street the man in the navy suit exited the J. I knew then what no one else knew. We had survived and were in the clear. At the next stop when the doors swung open…Nothing. Just fresh air! Confused passengers looked at me. “It wasn’t him”, they whispered. As passengers took in the fresh air they shot me apologetic looks.
The Joy Ride: By 24th Street most of the passengers had exited the J. I was in the clear. I took a seat knowing I could ride the J another day.
