Smothered to Death in a Stairwell

You'd think that by college boys have figured out the cologne thing. Alas, there are several who have not. I entered the stairwell, intent on my destination, only to be overcome by the wafting odor of man-musk. It was oppressive. Two steps later, I encountered the sources of this impenetrable fog: three boys on their way to class. I'm amazed they didn't die from smelling each other. I also wouldn't be surprised to find that no one sat near them in class, or that their instructor told them to go home and bathe before returning.

They were above me on the stairs, and walking slowly. After struggling a few more steps, I gave up, stood my ground, and prayed that the cloud would follow them out the door. It lingered. I had to forge ahead eventually; let me tell you, climbing four flights of stairs is work requiring heavy breathing. I think my lungs were damaged in the putrid climb. I know my nose was.

Please, men. Be careful about the amount of scent you wear. Just enough is often too much. The word of the day is "dab."

Love and Peace.