At Philly International Airport on Saturday, I was standing behind a guy in the security line who reeked so badly of body odor that I had to go around him just to avoid the stench. At that point, I didn't care if I was breaking some TSA regulation. His aura was so pungent that being tackled and stripsearched by guards seemed like a preferable alternative.
The dude-- who my husband nicknamed Smelly Cat-- made the stinky situation even worse by his decision to wear a sleeveless T while traveling. At the very least, he owed his fellow citizens and thin layer of clothing between him and his putrid pits. It's like a man who wears an adult diaper boarding a plane wearing ass-less chaps.
Luckily for us, he was on a different flight. I can't imagine the horror of being trapped in a closed environment with this inconsiderate nitwit. I would have been praying for a football-size whole to open up in the ceiling. Either that or I would have used my seat bottom cushion as a murder device.