Mr. Stinky

I love reading blogs and getting ideas. Thanks again, Pat. Although the hockey story really made me gag.
Here's another story from the seemingly endless cache.

Years ago my oldest sister, Kori and I would travel together. A lot of times we went to Seattle, rented a car and drove to Spokane to visit rellies. On one memorable flight I was stuck in the middle of five seats. Those of you who know me know that I fly with the behind-the-ear patch or risk messing with someone--literally. Even the motion of the plane before takeoff is too much for me without the magic patch. Therefore, I ALWAYS ask for the window seat. The air sickness seems to be less if I can see outside. So here I am stuck in the worst possible seat for me, the dread middle in the middle.
Kori and I were all alone in the row, and still alone, and still alone, dare I dream? No. Five minutes before takeoff two men walk down the aisle. Please God, please God, not here I pray. No. One guy sits beside Kori and one on the other aisle seat. One seat away from me. So, ok, I thought, business suit, good shoes, can't be too bad. No. This man smelled, and it was so bad that I was saying "oh no, oh no" to myself. I guess not totally to myself, because Kori elbowed me in the side. Hard.
Ever since I was pregnant with Hannah, my olfactory senses have been acute. I honestly one day, although I still get grief about this, smelled Scotch tape when we drove by 3M. No kidding. I can smell it when people are smoking in the car ahead of me in traffic and my windows are closed. A gift, no doubt, but not always a welcome gift.
The gift that day was a little hard to handle, to say the least. Every time he moved, air wafted straight to my schnozzola. When he lifted his arms I almost passed out. Then he took off his shoes and put on slippers. How much more? I'll tell you. He took a hunk of cheese out of his bag and started to open it. I looked at him and said, "That's limburger, and you're a dead man." Keep in mind, this was before 9-11 or I would be blogging behind bars right now.
"No," he said "white cheddar." Unbelieveable. He had no idea.
I was so glad to hear the engines drop power for our descent. Then the slippers came off and the shoes went back on. Oh My Stars. Can it be worse? You know it can.
Getting out of the plane was a welcome treat, and Kori and I still have a laugh every now and then. I am thankful for all the experiences of my life, no matter how strange, cuz, I figure, the more stories, the better, right?