The Smell of Death Around You

For those of you who have never had the joy of riding DC's Metro, you are sorely missing out on a rewarding olfactory experience. Metro prides itself on being clean, efficient, and comfortable. The carpets of the cars are generally tidy, the windows washed, and the station floors mopped. The unfortunate thing is Metro cannot be held responsible for the onslaught of body odor emanating from its customers. If only they were pressure cleaned prior to entering the train, I wouldn't have to write this.

I fail to understand how I can smell someone's stinky ass from three feet away at 8 in the morning, and don't tell me that it's my amazing Wolverine senses. If you're working up that much of a sweat by 8 am, perhaps you should remain idle on your IKEA sofa and become a state funded stink monster. What can possibly cause such pungency in the early morning hours? Are you rubbing animal lard on your dry skin or what? Oddly enough, the perps are always dressed in suits and carrying briefcases and lunchboxes. The construction workers aren't smelly; the cafeteria lady applies her deodorant, even the wild-eyed Vietnam Vet carrying a wooden placard finds time to wash his bits. Clearly, office employees aren't governed by the same rules of hygiene as the rest of us. I always thought cleanliness was a necessity, but the preppy Virginia commuters have debunked that theory and proven that they aren't very god-like.

In order to solve this problem, I think I shall amass a plethora of hotel toiletries (perhaps we could start a collection?) and pass them out as party favors on the train during my commute. All the yuppies can use their mocha lattes to rinse and smell like their favorite corporate coffeeshop. Anything will be an improvement over the slaughterhouse stench I currently have to endure. Something must be done, I can't continue to take vomit bags with me on the train. And I'm pretty certain we all have indoor plumbing...