Elevator experience

I was heading down to the gym this morning from my office, and I decided to take the elevator. I could have used the stairs, but that would have meant crossing the main lobby to get to the basement stairwell, and at the time I was dressed in running shorts, calf-high black socks and dress shoes. Did I mention that I was in my office because I had forgotten to grab my running shoes before changing at the gym? Yeah, I looked cool.

Anyway, the elevator doors opened and one of the cleaning staff was inside wiping down the walls. The second I crossed the elevator threshold, I knew I should have risked looking like an idiot in front of my coworkers, or at least waited for another lift down. The cleaning guy didn't take up too much room in the elevator, but I'll be damned if his stink didn't. The dude kicked like a cross between limburger cheese, wet dog and Satan's ass. I've lived in a country infamous for its disregard of deodorant for more than two years, and this guy easily went in my top five smelliest experiences of all time. He couldn't have had worse B.O. if he had climbed out of Matt Drudge's butt and then taken a spin class in a steam room.