Traveling circus

Today I smelled the worst smell known to mankind. But before I go into detail, I’m going to pull a Tarantino and jump to the beginning of the story.

Dubai Airport. International flight. It’s a universal rule that you check-in 2 hours before departure. When do we roll up? One hour before departure. And it’s a full flight. And Ma still has the audacity to ask if she can change her seats to aisle seats. Like, that’s partly the reason they make you come early, isn’t it? So you can do shit like change your seating arrangement, for example. Anyway, the little Asian guy (whose sexual orientation I questioned) firmly but politely told Ma to take her boarding pass and leave. The flight was full. There’s nothing he can do. ESPECIALLY when we’re the last of a plane full of 300 passengers to check-in.

We start going through security. New rule at Dubai airport, by the way: Laptops? Out of the bag, opened, and switched on. Don’t ask me why. Anyway, no issues through security. We walk about five billion miles to the Duty Free, and the psycho maternal accompaniment decides that she urgently needs to buy a toothbrush. Mind you, boarding already started like 15 minutes ago. And we were far from our gate. And a toothbrush isn’t going to save you in the event of a plane crash. It’s not that important that you can’t buy it at the next airport. But Ma was persistent. So I just gave up and told her to meet me outside Gate 119.

The little TV screen in front of the gate flashed FINAL BOARDING in red letters. I knew this shit would happen. Yet another reason why they want you to come two hours before. So that if you forget to pack your toothbrush, you have a bit of spare time to shop around for the perfect combination of plastic, bristles, and rubber grips that make your mouth refreshed and happy. But no. They’re about to taxi the plane out of the gate without us on it, and what’s Ma’s number one priority? The toothbrush.

Eventually, she comes moseying on over at her usual slow pace. AND YOU KNOW WHAT SHE DOES?! “Uhm, excuse meeeee… Can you please give me an aisle seat?” I just stared at her. Was this really happening? Everyone’s on the plane, in their seats, with their seatbelts fastened, and this lady is asking for aisle seats. What makes it even worse is that the woman behind the counter obliged by saying “Just a second ma’am, let me check what’s available,” and my mom responds by giving me all her shit and declaring that she’s going to the bathroom.

Fortunately for everyone in this story (except for myself), I couldn’t find any weapons to kill her with because we had already checked in our luggage, and gone through security with our carry ons. So as much as I wanted to, there was nothing I could do but glare and grunt. Eventually we got on the plane and everyone immediately hated us. If we would’ve crash landed on an island, we’d’ve been the first to get killed for food and clothing.

Time passes and we end up in Amsterdam. I’m going to keep this part of our journey brief, because you can visually experience the story via my facebook albums. But in short, it was cold, it rained twice, was sunny and bright as shit in between the rain periods, and there was a pigeon INSIDE the grocery story. Just chilling in the bread section, eating crumbs. Due to the violations of many health codes, Ma and I just bought our shit and left.

Kay, new plane. And right off the bat, I could sense that this would be a horrible flight. I don’t know why, I could just feel it. And of course, I was right. Ma gets the aisle seat (again), I get the middle seat (again), and some old creepy Iranian woman is sitting on my other side. She’s a talker. I’m a killer. But unfortunately, only one of us had the necessary tools for our trade. Creepy talkative Iranian, 1. Ona, 0. She woke me and asked me what I wanted to drink. She made me fill out her customs form for her because she didn’t have her reading glasses. She leaned over and stared at my laptop screen during the entire operational lifespan of it on flight KL 0641. She woke me to say thanks for helping her with the customs form. She made me take out my earbuds to listen to her life story. She asked me to get her vanilla ice cream from the business class section. By the end of the flight, I was fed the fuck up, and Ma and I literally sprinted towards immigration.

We stood in line for three years, did our laser fingerprints and retina scans, got our baggage, went on the AirTrain to the last stop, got out and transferred to the A-train, and sat down and chilled out. But it’s rush hour traffic, so it’s very congested. And at every station, the conductor would remind us that there’s train traffic ahead, and we should sit tight. Eventually however, after having been stationary for half an hour, the conductor told us all to get on the train on the opposite platform.

We rushed on, the doors sealed shut, and that’s when the smell began. It was bad at first, and only became increasingly worse. It was so bad that it was painful. My eyes were burning. I felt like vomiting. What was emitting such a horrid stench?

And then I saw it. Him, rather. Homeless dude. Wearing about four layers of completely filthy clothes, soaked in urine, and splotched with what appeared to be (and smelled like) human feces, this man made me very uncomfortable. I didn’t even feel compassion, I just felt hatred. If you’re going to reek worse than a landfill, and you’re poor and homeless and it’s summer, stay off the fucking trains. Or chill outside somewhere till after rush hour, and then get on and quietly stink in the corner. But this man chose to sit in the middle of a train car for several if not many stops, and we the passengers could do nothing about it but to shield our faces and pray to our gods to remove this demon from our Earth.

Someone must’ve been a good person, because his or her prayer got answered relatively quickly. Homeless guy looks up, sees the upcoming stop, grabs his garbage bags (literally, two large black Hefty trash bags full of who knows what), and moves towards the door. All this commotion of moving about caused the air to shift and stir, and the smell increased. It was bad. This time, everyone covered their faces and dove out of the way. When he finally left, the world went back to normal.

Anyway, the purpose of this post is in no way meant to make you feel sorry for the homeless guy, but it’s meant to make you feel sorry for me. So I hope it’s working. More updates tomorrow, I’m too jet-lagged to even upload my pictures right now. I didn’t even proof read this.


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2 Responses to “Traveling circus”

  1. Pelzina's relative Says:

    Noone is even commenting on this smelly blog :)

  2. Hadal Says:

    Ugh, people. They’re the worst. By the way, this is really well written! As well, I apologize for all of mankind for your tragedy of an experience :(

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