Remember the Seinfeld episode where Elaine gets in the cab that reeks of killer B.O.?
I can do her one better.
After being out of town all week — four cities in four days, two missed flights, and more airplane boxed meals than I care to remember — I excitedly jumped in the cab to get home to my dog. And what was there to greet me?
I say farts (plural) because it wasn’t just one that faded away as I sat there. No, the odor was constant and cloying and seemed to invade every pore of my skin.
Elaine, if you’re out there in your imaginary world, I’m pretty sure farts trump B.O. — I win!
Which means I lose. Oh yes, I lose BIG TIME.