Dear Abby,
I am at my whit’s end. I requested a change in the location of my college football season tickets, and couldn’t be happier with the new view; however, my wife and I quickly realized why these seats became available. The guy to our left smells like a dead possum. The stink fumes rising off this guy are actually visible. I have visited landfills on hot August days that were less offensive. After considerable thought, we have identified the following options:
Option 1. The stadium has a “jumbotron,” an enormous video screen visible to all 60,000 people in attendance. For an immodest fee, fans can post announcements during breaks in the game. Birthday wishes. Anniversaries. An occasional marriage proposal. (This is the University of Oregon’s Autzen Stadium – but delete this comment before you publish this, I don’t need to get dragged out to the parking lot by the athletic department’s henchmen and put through a little “Spring Training” if you get my drift. Let’s just say they don’t tolerate criticism of their program very kindly, even if it is just one smelly guy in Section 32. I repeat, DELETE THIS COMMENT BEFORE PUBLICATION!) Anyway, my idea is to surreptitiously take a photo of my neighbor using my iPhone, and then posting the photo with an anonymous message on the jumbotron. Something subtle. I’m thinking, something like, “When even your dog won’t sit next to you, it’s probably time for a shower!” This option could also include hiring one of those planes that fly over the stadium before the game pulling a banner.
Option 2. I watch my share of law enforcement dramas on television. So I have seen my fair share of fake autopsies. The pathologists and cops are always smearing some sort of gel beneath their noses to dull the odor of the corpse. (Sometimes the tv detectives smear this stuff on before they enter a home where some poor sap of a beat cop has discovered a decomposed body; so you know it’s got to be good.) If that stuff is real, I could get some of it. Of course, it would take away from the “crisp fall day” experience, but the air isn’t too crisp as it stands now. Right now, it’s the “ripe fall air.”
Option 3. I could confront him. Tactfully. Now keep in mind, I don’t know this fellow. He is a complete stranger. And this would take something of which I am in desperately short supply. Courage. This is the Achilles heel of Option 3. I floated the idea by my wife that she might engineer this little social intervention. She explained her position on my request as follows, and I quote, “No.”
So, Dear Abby, I implore you. Help! If you are kind enough to respond to my plea for advice, I can use Option 4: Taping your column to his seat prior to the next game. So, please, in your answer, refer to us as “Sitting behind him.”
Signed,
Sincerely,
“Victims of the stinker in front of us!”
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