Stinkerella Man

The best time to go to the laundromat is in the middle of a weekday, I have found. It is usually much less crowded than an evening or weekend and there is actually a space to sit while waiting. The one I go to also has wifi and a countertop along the window so I can work while I’m there. Minus the fact that there are other people there and that I have to wear shoes, it is almost like doing laundry at home.

I went last week to take care of my ever growing mountain of dirty clothes, a mountain that gets larger much faster now that the weather has changed. Sweatshirts add a lot of bulk to the pile and I wear one pretty much every day during fall and winter. Spring too, until it gets too warm. I love a cozy sweatshirt.

But anyway, I was at the laundromat. I had shifted my clothes to the dryer and was waiting for them to be dry enough to fold so that I could return to my lair/apartment. My computer was out and I was working on cleaning up some project management stuff for work when a man came in carrying a small, black duffel bag. With my headphones in and focused on what I was doing, I didn’t pay him much attention until he put the duffel bag on the counter maybe three feet to the right of where I was sitting. As soon as he swung the bag up into my line of sight I was struck by the most unholy smell, best described as slightly burnt rubber mixed with the aroma of a crowd of humid teenagers.

Here I will pause to note that I do not go around smelling teenagers on purpose, especially not humid ones. I am referring to past youth events I have worked. When it is raining and the teenagers are damp and then all gather into one space and they are kind of sweaty from running around…that is a smell you will not soon forget.

So this horrible smell is assaulting my nose just from the bag being on the counter near me. Obviously I pretended like nothing was amiss and just continued on with my work. But then this guy unzipped the bag and began unloading it; the smell level quadrupled at least. Now officially distracted, I started watching what he was doing out of the corner of my eye. Mostly I needed to know what was creating that smell and I tell you I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if he had pulled out the rotting carcass of a skunk or really any type of rotting carcass.

At first he was just pulling out clothes, throwing them into a nearby washer which was a good option, second only to throwing the clothes directly into the fiery pits of hell where that smell belonged. I figured this was a gym bag based on the type of clothes he was extracting, but I couldn’t figure out where the rubbery smell was coming from. Perhaps his own particular brand of body odor had a special burnt smell to it, or perhaps the duffel bag had been sitting in the sun too long and it was the bag itself that smelled. Either way, this guy seemed completely unaware of how disgusting he was making the entire place smell. A few times I had to pull my collar up over my nose because I could literally taste the smell.

I’ve always had a somewhat sensitive nose. I can often smell things that nobody else can, or at least smells will bother me more than they do others. When I was a kid I remember first discovering that other people’s houses did not smell the same as my house. In particular there was one time when we had to drop by a classmate’s house to drop something off or maybe to pick them up, I don’t remember why we were there. But I remember standing in the doorway of the house and being overwhelmed by the pervasive smell which I now recognize as the smell of being unwashed. I had always noticed that this particular classmate had a slight aroma, but I figured that was just her. But standing in the doorway of her home and smelling that smell on a much larger scale made me realize that it wasn’t just her, it was her whole environment. The whole family would have smelled like that. I couldn’t understand how they could tolerate that smell all the time until it became clear to me that they probably were used to it and couldn’t smell it themselves.

Ever since then I have always wondered what my house smells like. Despite my sensitive nose, I’m sure there is a scent that is pervasive but that I am used to and so am nose blind to it. What do others think when they come to my house? Does it smell bad? Do they leave thinking, “how can she stand to live in that smell?” I mean, I do have a cat so it’s possible, although I do what I can to keep the feline odors to a minimum. And I am sure to use shampoos, hand soaps, deodorants, and cleaning products with scents that I like in hopes that any lingering smells are pleasant ones. When in doubt, I light a candle.

So clearly I’m a little insecure about my own personal scent which is why I was mortified on behalf of this man in the laundromat. If I ever had a bag of such smelly contents I hope I would be scent aware enough to perhaps not bring it into a public place, or at least not air things out where other’s noses take the brunt of the assault.

Finally out of the corner of my eye I saw him reach into the bag and pull out boxing gloves of some kind. That explained the slight rubbery smell and also why the sweat stink wasn’t dissipating. Those things absorb smell like nobody’s business. It didn’t matter that he was washing his workout clothes; as soon as he stuck them back into his gym bag with those gloves, everything would smell again. Which is probably why he didn’t seem aware of the stink in the first place. But good for him for having a consistent workout routine, I guess. And actually, maybe he was aware of the stink and on purpose brought his gym bag to the laundromat so as to not stink up his house. I suppose that is possible, but should indeed be considered a felony.

Even though I am insecure about my own personal smell sometimes, at the end of the day I must like it. Although I would never be able to describe how my home smells, because to me it smells like normal, like nothing, it also smells like comfort. For me it’s like walking into a church building. As a kid who grew up hanging out in churches a lot, that musty smell with hints of lingering coffee hour scent has a calming effect on me. The moment I catch a whiff I think, “smells like a church!” and it makes me a little happy. The same is true of coming home. Walking in the door into my own habitat, being surrounded by whatever my own particular scent is, definitely makes me feel like I’ve come home.

I just hope it’s not offensive to others. I don’t want to be charged with nasal war crimes.