Part II: Manroma, a beautified name for man stench.
As I recounted from my last installment of Trapped in a Hamster Cage, I tried desperately to upkeep the sanitary condition of the toilet here. I really did. Deodorize, de-urine stain, de-mildew…I did it all. I used so much bleach and Dettol I was cutting my lifespan by god knows how many years just breathing in the nasal cavity piercing fumes from the cleaning products.
Alas, the minute I commended myself on a cleaning job well done and contemplated licking the rim of the toilet bowl to attest to a level of sanitation unparalleled anywhere in the universe, it all goes amuck the moment I step outside the toilet, and an ungrateful jackass steps in.
Now in addition to that I have discovered yet another thing to bitch about… why is it that I have such an aversion to man stench? You might know said stench as that rancid odor that wafted through your junior high gym hallway whenever the boy’s locker room door was violently swung open in a fit of adolescent rage. That foul unmistakable stink of sweaty feet, bad breath, B.O., and underwear that you just knew were soiled with streak marks. Now, add to that odor the acidic sting emanating from the urine soaked toilet, and you’ve got yourself a pretty good image of what I have to cope with day in, day out.
Why is it that so many men stink? Some of them absolutely reek. I sat a few seats away from a man on the MTR the other day, and he smelled like a urinal and BO. It was so nauseating I moved to a vacated seat across the car at the next station. I glanced over to the woman who took my old seat, who was now sitting in an uncomfortable pose, head tilted, putting a hanky up against her nose. Some guys smell like dirty gym socks, and it brings back unfortunate memories of when I held my breath while changing next to the homophobic burly jock (who swore like a sailor off duty) after Phys. Ed. in Grade 9.
Anyway, back here in the hamster cage, I bought a bouquet of lilies and an assortment of other flowers to get rid of the stench. What a success I thought, esthetically pleasing and deodorizes! until the flowers started to wither away a few days later (probably from the dangerously high levels of methane gas from farts). The vile scents of Chinese herbal medicines, old man, debauchery, flatulence, body odor, sweat-drenched clothes have returned, and once again I feel short of breath. Oh wait, someone just opened the toilet door… Right, now I’m just gagging.
Um… maybe tomorrow I’ll try sprucing the place up with a few pots of jasmine?
