The odour coming from the young man sitting along from me on the park bench was unpleasant and penetrating. It was clear he’d been playing football, and his socks were the prime mover in this nasal assault. It jolted a memory into my consciousness: I’ve been in the presence of industrial-scale B.O. before – on a bus in Sydney on a hot afternoon commute. I wouldn’t have believed the stench that day if I hadn’t smelt it with my own nose…

An obviously homeless man got on the bus and sat in the front seat. Within seconds people scattered almost as if the man had a bomb strapped to his chest. I was sitting about half way down the bus, and the smell reached me just before the first of the refugees did. I had an automatic reaction – I stopped breathing in and quickly identified the source of danger. My body was taking over – fight or flight. It was curious in its strength and intensity. Remember, I was half way down the bus, so my body didn’t actually, literally take flight as those closer had done. I was familiar with the tone of the smell from passing homeless people in the street, but the force of this was like comparing an atomic bomb with a firecracker. It was extremely unpleasant, but I could manage the smell with a combination of controlled breathing and brute will. So I stayed where I was.

What happened next was interesting: a stand-off. First, the people who were revolted, revolted. They demanded, shouting from the back of the bus, that the bus driver eject the man. The driver, who was much closer to the man than anyone else, agreed and demanded that the man get off the bus. The smeller, however, was having none of it. “I’ve paid my fare” he said loudly, in a
deep voice that didn’t sound used to talking, and sat still.

The bus driver picked out the coins, got up, gave the money to the man, and demanded he vacate the bus. The man huffed and puffed, then got up and got off.

I was conflicted: he had paid, and I did feel sympathy for his situation and his embarrassment. I was also relieved, although it was some time after the bus had moved on, windows open, that I dared take a breath. I remember the stench stayed with me, in my imagination perhaps, for days.