I skunked the driver

Riding the Metrolift paratransit service, you encounter various "types". The "Practical" an outgoing, no-nonsense female driver, she's the one who can eat a hamburger, talk to dispatch, and navigate hellish traffic in a downpour. The Talker, who'd have a seizure if they had to hang up. The older white guy, a little off-beat, but a really nice guy.

Today, we rode with a "Refrigerator". I have a theory that "Refrigerators" had a poverty-stricken childhood. They never had air conditioning, or, if they did, it was carefully rationed. They probably never got enough to eat, either, although "Refrigerators" tend to be average-weight. Their parents each worked 2 jobs to pay the bills and never had enough time for them, although they had loving homes. They are addicted to keeping their vehicle as cold as possible. To them, 60 degrees is ideal. They're the reason Ron always brings a coat when we ride, especially in the summer.

I've been getting devoured by mosquitoes at work. I tell Ron, he's broccoli to them, while I'm chocolate cake. I'm the best person to have when you're in a mosquito area, 'cause they'll all be biting me. The DEET stuff has been implicated in giving me migraines, so I avoid it. I got some herbal bug spray and sprayed it on directly a while ago, but I stank like some kind of vile wintergreen-lemon toilet bowl cleanser. It was toxic.

Today I had a new idea. "I know" I thought "I'll spray a tiny bit of the bug spray onto a washcloth. Then I'll rub the washcloth on my arms and legs." I'm one of those people who don't believe their loved ones. If Ron tells me I'm sweet and fun, I'm accepting, but I don't believe it. If a complete stranger says so, I'm deeply touched and I believe them instantly. So when Ron told me, "Heather, you stink!" I blew him off. Picky, picky. Besides, it's too late, our ride just pulled up outside.

As soon as I opened the door to the cab, I knew the driver was a "Refrigerator". The windows are tightly rolled up and the thermostat is set for "Max Cold" "High". The driver didn't say anything but I noticed he seemed to be sniffling.

About one mile into our ride, he turned off the A/C and rolled all the windows down. I didn't want to believe it. Did I reek so much that I forced a Refrigerator to turn off the A/C and roll down the windows? These are the guys who won't turn off the A/C if you BEG them to.

We went another block. I couldn't take it. "Is it me? Do I smell that bad?" The driver glanced at me in the rear view mirror, leaned closer to the window, and took a deep breath. "It's my allergies, I think I'm allergic." Ron's face was a fascinating combination of smirk and empathy.

"I'm sorry." I wailed.

I managed to find a couple of rubbing alcohol wipes in my purse (first-aid kit). I wiped myself down but it didn't help much. I told the driver I would never, ever use that stuff again as I got out of the cab at "our" Walmart.

A swift trip to the health and beauty section and I got some rubbing alcohol towlettes. I paid for them and stood in the store vestibule, wiping my arms and legs down with rubbing alcohol, trying to kill the stench. It helped but I still carried a definite aroma.

We went to work (a Metrolift driver was happy to receive a gift of the rest of the package of rubbing alcohol wipes). Stocked the machines, etc. I got pretty goofy from my pills so I sat on a milk crate in the stock room.

After work, Yay! Time to go to Burger King. I went out to the "Bus stop" and was bitten by several mosquitoes.

However, no other drivers were forced to roll down their windows. I'm sorry I skunked the driver.