I got on the first car of the Red Line train and the smell hit me immediately, though I didn’t react right away.
I looked up and saw an unkempt man in his 50s putting out a cigarette
on the back of the seat in front, so I thought it was smoke I smelled.
But no. It clearly was feces and plain old body odor. I moved to the
other end of the car. When we got to the next stop, a guy wearing a
heavy dose of cologne sat next to me. I was never so happy to have that
bad cologne smell counteract Stinky Man.
At each successive train stop, I watched people approach empty seats near the guy and then turn away in disgust.
By Argyle, another guy boarded, took a whiff and then shook his head.
Meanwhile, thankfully, Stinky Man got up to leave at Lawrence. The other
guy told him, “Man, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, being all
smelly like that.”
As Stinky Man got off and walked down the platform, the guy yelled after him: “You need to go take a bath in bleach.”
The guy then told the train motorman about Stinky Man. By Belmont, the motorman was
warning: “You might want to avoid the first car, it’s kind of stinky.”
And at Fullerton, a customer service assistant asked the motorman if Stinky Man was still on the car, clearly ready to toss him if her was.
The moral of the story: If you smell something, say something.