A rose by any other name...

Yesterday I caught a bus. I got on and scoped out a seat. There were quite a few available, though three passengers were not moving their bags in a hurry so I could sit down. And then I saw the friendly looking blue collar worker who had moved his bag and therefor was allowing me a seat.

He smiled when I sat down in that strangers on a bus kind of way.

Now, I work with blue collar workers daily. I am not a newcomer to the ways and smells of a hard days work. I was expecting, late in the afternoon, that this man, this kind man who had offered me a seat, might just be a little on the nose. I was surprised however, when the smell I was expecting to be sweat based, was urine based.

Now, I could only see in my peripheral vision, but he was flushed. In the face. His face was flushed. I took this as his shame. You know, that he knew and now I was sitting next to him and obviously knew. I felt bad. It probably wasn't his fault and now he was all embarrassed and yet, he was the only one who lifted his bag to let me sit, even though he had the best reason to not.

After one or two stops and people getting off, seats became available elsewhere. The wee smell was strong, but I felt it would only make him feel worse if I moved. I powered on. I breathed through my mouth, realising I was now eating the wee smell, I switched back to breathing through my nose which very quickly reminded me why I started breathing through my mouth in the first place. A cruel circle to be sure.

Maybe ten minutes had passed when the man spoke "excuse me, I am getting off here". I tried to make my smile look like a polite one instead of the "thank goodness pissy pants is leaving" relieved smile that it really was. And that was that. Off he got.

But the smell didn't.

It wasn't him. I now think it was the woman sitting in front of us that had gotten on at the same time as me.

And if it that were the case, there is every chance that the man sitting next to me thought I was the one emitting the odour. That I was the pissy pants. That the red, flushed face of his was only because he was trying to hold back the tears. And that he thought HE was the one soldiering on. He probably didn't even have to get off at that stop, he probably just saw it as the only chance to escape past me.

I don't know what I feel worse about, the fact that I wrongly accused a man of peeing his pants, or that he thought it was me.

It wasn't me.

Honestly.