No Soup for You!

Last Sunday, for an entire hour, I had to sit next to a man that smelled like canned soup.

I was at meeting (I’m a Quaker for those of you who don’t know) and had just settled down into my seat, when a strange man came and sat down next to me. A few minuets into the silence, I began to notice a suspicious odor creeping over from my left. As the scent grew, stronger I realized that it was the stench of old, canned soup, possibly coupled with the smell of urine.

If I belonged to any other faith, in the event of this happening I may have been able to focus on a sermon that was taking place, or even moved over a bit in the pew. But alas, in my church there is nothing to focus on but silence, and we do not have pews, but chairs. Slowly the smell began taking up more and more of my breathing space, until I was completely surrounded. It was terrifying. Every time he breathed, the smell became overwhelming, but I learned not to breathe for ten seconds after this and adapted quickly. You have to in situations like this.

I may never have soup again. It’s a shame too, because I really like soup. But after being completely encased by the smell of rotting tomatoes for an hour, I just don’t think I’m up to it. And if it would bring the person next to me as much pain and suffering as I went through that day, it would by no means be worth it. I just wonder how much soup he must have consumed in order to have its scent radiate out from within the depths of his stomach.

And Happy Birthday June! May it be a wonderful, soup-free one.

-Viv

P.S.- I'm going to be out of town next Wednesday, so if anyone wants to fill in just ask.