Flight 345 to San Francisco had just left the ground when I noticed the faint aroma of corn chips. I enjoy corn chips so this made me a little hungry. A mental note was made to bring my own snacks on the next flight since snack boxes are 3 bucks and they don’t include Fritos.
As my fellow passengers and I ascended into the beautiful, sunny, blue sky, the 4-oz.-bag-of-corn-chip smell grew to a 20-oz.-bag-of-corn-chip smell. It came from the passenger to my immediate right. Seems he was in a hurry to make his flight this morning and skipped a shower. Eww. I twisted open the air nozzle over my head to blow away the subtle funk and opened my book to escape in its story.
While reading, I felt a tickle in my right nostril. There was a moment of confusion as I merged with reality because I thought someone had stuck a bean dipped corn chip coated in bad breath in my nose. I mentally classified the passenger next to me as a new species (the homorepellus hygienitard – pronounced hi gen’ eh tard’) because nobody human could possible be that elusive to soap. For a while, I casually closed my left nostril by pretending to prop my head on my hand, but that didn’t work. I twisted the air nozzle again, but it couldn’t blow harder. It appeared that the passenger to my immediate right wasn’t using hers. I thought, ‘Maybe I can point hers in my direction. Does she not smell this? Is her nose deaf?’
Before I could commandeer her air, I sneezed and my nose began to run so I climbed from the middle seat to clean my sinuses.
In the tight bathroom of the A320-SR, I rediscovered the joy of fresh(ish) air. I blew out the vile stench that clung to my mucus and inhaled the smell of airline hand soap and blue commode water. A pubic toilet never smelled so good. I didn’t want to leave. Subjecting myself to the cloud of nose-hate again would be sadistic, but I couldn’t very well stay in the bathroom for two hours.
What to do…what to do…
I was blessed with the genius idea of wandering the aisles of the plane until we were ready to land. There aren’t rules for standing during a flight, so what can they say other than that I am strange?
‘Awesome. Problem solved,’ I thought as I slowly exited the bathroom (I have to be careful to not hit my head).
I loitered in the back for a moment, nonchalantly looking over passengers’ shoulders at what they were reading when I felt the plane jostle a little. My face blanched when I heard the familiar ping of the “fasten seat belt” sign and listened to the captain announce, “We are about to go through a rough patch so please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts.”
Frozen, I seriously weighed the consequences of defying airline regulation to remain standing. I mean, how bad can airport jail be? Is it worse than the hygienitard? An authoritative voice behind me demanded I sit down, and instead of saying, “No thanks. I’ll risk it,” I did as I was told.
3 steps closer to my seat, I felt a lump form in my throat. The plane shook again. 6 steps closer, my eyes begin to water. 9 steps closer my lower lip quivers and I fight back a sob. The plane suddenly drops, and I have to grab the seat next to me for balance. With only 3 steps away, my nose begins to run again. Good thing I brought tissue from the bathroom (oh, the fond memories I have of the airplane bathroom).
Back in my seat, I find the hygienitard sleeping under a blanket. The only exposure was its left leg. Stretching my face as close to the blowing air nozzle as possible, I contemplated how to get his leg covered. Thankfully the blanket smothered most of the stench, but I didn’t want to cover his exposed leg for fear of the hygienitard assuming I was tucking him in.
The plane took another nasty dive. Some passengers yelped or gasped; I prayed we were crashing just so the oxygen masks would drop. ‘Could I pry the oxygen mask compartments open? Would they be more mad if I did that instead of standing in the aisle when you’re not supposed to?’ I thought as I fixed my gaze on the “fasten seat belt” light, awaiting its disappearance. I was willing to metaphorically chew off my arm to escape the bear trap, but I was stuck on deciding which arm to chew off.
When the plane finally landed and the “fasten seat belt” light I was still staring at finally went off, a manic blurt of laughter escaped from me. Relieved that fresh air would be mine again soon, I scurried to stand in the aisle with my carry-on and wait to de-board. I took a moment to be grateful I survived to share the tale of the hygienitard, because awareness is half the battle.
Hey – great post. I’ve been stuck next to some offensively-smelling folks on long plane rides before and it’s really not fun. I have one suggestion (which I used once, when the passenger next to me started coughing up stuff onto his tray table) – hit your flight attendant button and either ask politely for a different seat or (if you’re shy about offending someone) tell them that you’d really like a aisle/window seat and would it be possible to change? Flight attendants are masters of damage control and, in my experience, acquiesce to even the strangest of requests if they’re not illegal or difficult. In my case, I didn’t have to be very secretive, since my unwelcome neighbor was pretty much passed out.
That’s funny, but only because it didn’t happen to me! Had it happened to me I’d be on my blog bitchin’ up a storm!! But you survived and now we can all laugh.
Thanks for sharing!
I think you *may* have misjudged this man.
A bathing problem/hygiene problem would have simply smelled like BO.
A corn chip aroma is indicative of someone who is ill.
The first possibility is diabetes, and what you were smelling was ketones. Ketones usually smell fruity but they can also smell like toasted bread
or corn chips. The smell of ketones indicates serious diabetes, usually undiagnosed diabetes, and sometimes the first person to notice is the ill person’s partner, who smells the corn chip smell on the ill person’s breath
and skin, and says maybe that should be checked out.
“Corn chips” smell is also a signature smell of a yeast infection.
Anybody can get a yeast infection — not just women — and there are
many different types of yeast infections. A very common one produces
precisely this smell. This type of yeast infection cannot be cured simply by good hygiene — an oral antifungal drug must be taken for at least a week, sometimes six weeks. If the man had his shoes off, and the odor got worse
as you got closer to the floor, that’d be my guess.
Finally, if you’ve ever worked on a cancer ward, you will notice that a sweet corn chip kind of smell is the smell of cancer. After working on a cancer
floor of a hospital for years, I know the smell of cancer — it is
unmistakable — and I can sometimes smell it on people who have not yet been diagnosed.
So most likely the gentleman seated next to you exuded a smell that was
not due to any lack of hygiene. He was probably ill.
I know this gentleman’s smell was annoying, and the limited fresh air on a plane can magnify any smell, especially on an empty stomach, but it is my opinion that you were too quick to judge and a little compassion was in
order. So next time you smell an odor on someone, you may want to ask yourself if this person’s visual appearance indicates a lack of hygiene,
or if something else may be at play, like illness?