A week or so ago I caught a bit of Man vs. Wild on the Discovery Channel and got a huge laugh when Bear Grylls trapped, skinned, and then proceeded to eat skunk. I laughed hard at the smell he had to endure and could not begin to imagine the horror of that smell. A bit of Schadenfreude I suppose.
I had no idea what was soon to beset me.
This weekend I had to opportunity to go see the musical “110 in the Shade.” A play, that looks at the day in the life of a town suffering through a miserable drought in the early part of last century. It was a pretty good play, but the smell of skunk Bear Grylls had to endure, had nothing on the waft that beseeched my family as we sat there attempting to enjoy the play. I have never smelled anything so gag inducing as the road kill breath that periodically drifted into our personal airspace. It was so bad, that every few moments I found myself gagging and my face contorting to disfigurement that would make Jim Carey proud. My body was convulsing in obvious distress. I’m not sure if a pallet of Tic Tacs could have cut the bite of that breath.
I’m sitting there thinking in between convulsions, that roadkill baking in the road in the 110 heat of some hot Texas highway had nothing on that breath. Then I was wondering if maybe a possum had died, and someone had flung it under my seat. It was all I could do not to retch and vomit.
We had great seats, but at the first intermission we happily downgraded our seats to get away from that vile smell. While the first act was certainly breathtaking, the second, undistracted, was far more breathmaking.