Beyond BO

The worst BO I ever had the pleasure of smelling was in the Franklin D Roosevelt metro stop in Paris. It had been a hot day in Paris and I had broken a sweat while eating ribs at a small café (I had tried to order a hamburger, but the waitress, insulted that I didn't speak the language brought me ribs instead. My traveling companion had also ordered a burger which she received, but her's had a fried egg on the top of it. You may have lost the war, Frenchie, but you still find new and exciting ways of insulting us! touché, sir, touché!) I was traveling, I was nervous I’m sure I didn’t smell good; but compared to the man standing next to me on the platform, my BO smelled like a poof of a fart.

His BO had turned so rotten that it had taken on a smell not unlike a salad oil. An alchemist’s mixture of vinaigrette, essential oils and perhaps just a hint of spice. It was so beyond body odor that it had taken on a life of its own and wreaked so rotten that it actually didn't smell bad at all; it numbed the nose like hot water feeling cold. I have not eaten salad, however, to this day.

Since then, perhaps because they are aware of their own ability to generate body odor or perhaps because they're French (they put fucking fried eggs on burgers, man!) the Parisian government has recently introduced an aroma therapy policy for the metro stations of Paris. 18 tons of Hermes and Rochas perfume are now mixed with cleaning supplies and then used to create a more positive environment in metro stations.

This only comes to my attention because the person sitting next to me has taken to listening to Elton John, Colplay and some days, not often mind you but when he needs that little extra boost, a little Five For Fighting. It's turning me into a bit of an old bitty as I've now had to ask him to kindly turn down his music several times. This isn't because his music is too loud or doesn't allow me to work- thank you very much I can distract myself easily enough. Rather, it's because I find this form of music to be completely offensive.

Sure I have my own bands that I keep neatly tucked into the closet (Snow Patrol, Something Corporate and… sigh... KT Tunstall) but at the very least I have the common decency to listen to them in the privacy of my own home or with the sound turned down so low that no one will be the wiser at work.

And so, in a move that I have stolen from the French (and from Folgers) I have secretly replaced his crappy music with good music. Now, let's sit back and see what happens for the rest of the day. He gets in at 8:30 and I'll be updating the comments section. Enjoy! And support good music!