Let's Play Find That Smell!

I walked into work at 4:00pm.  There was a table outside with a crying baby.  Apparently the baby had been cranky on and off the entire time it had been there.  At one point, the mother began breast-feeding and the baby became quiet again.  Sadly, the air of silence was only temporary, as soon after the baby was belting out again. 

There was only one lady sitting at a table next to them - upwind.  Once the baby began its full throttle lung exercises again, the lady, not surprisingly, immediately asked for the check.  Because the crying baby table had already cashed out with the previous server, I had no reason to go over there.  Once the lady next to them left, I avoided the outside.  The baby’s cries were unbearable. 

It’s common knowledge among the baby world that babies cry for only three simple reasons:  they’re hungry, they’re tired or they need a diaper change.  At least I thought this was common knowledge. 

Who hangs out in a restaurant with a crying baby when you’re all done and paid?  Common knowledge (along with common courtesy) would tell you to get the hell out of there and move on.  Right?  These new parents must have been lacking some serious common knowledge.  I felt bad for them.  And I felt bad for the baby. 

Meanwhile, an older couple walked in the door.  They asked for a table outside.  The only open section at that time was in the crying baby section.  I had no choice but to seat the couple near the crying baby.  Of course if they complained of the noise I’d move them elsewhere.

I told the older couple they could sit anywhere on the side patio.  They chose to sit right next to the crying baby – downwind.  When I walked over to greet them with menus, I noticed the smell of poop.  Oh my god.  Gag me with a spoon.  I could barely focus on what I was trying to say.  My eyes wandered to the baby’s table wondering if there was a dirty diaper bag lying around or if the baby was wearing the dirty diaper.  Either way I was completely disgusted.  As I went inside to get the new table its drinks (and to get some fresh air) I thought, “What is wrong with these people?  They finished eating and drinking over 30 minutes ago, have paid and are now simply hanging out with a crying baby with an atrocious dirty diaper.”  How much more offensive can this get?  I was at the point where I wanted to ask my manager if he could politely ask them to leave.  It was that bad.

As the baby started to hemorrhage with cries again, the mother’s friend took the baby for a walk on the boardwalk, back and forth literally in front of the restaurant.  Ding! Ding! Ding!  We have a winner! The most idiotic parent award goes to ... drumroll please … Table three!   I mean c’mon.

I delivered the older couple their drinks and took their food order.  The stench was horrific.  At this point I realized the smell must have been coming from the diaper bag, as the baby was being held elsewhere at the moment.  Could this old couple truly not smell anything?  I figured if they didn’t ask to move, then I assumed they were okay.  Though I couldn’t believe it, I rolled with it.  Once I got back inside, I took a deep much needed breath of fresh air.  Holy hell, it’s bad out there. 

As the mother’s friend brought the baby back to the table, the mother finally started to pack up.  Thank you Lord.  As they were finally packing up, another couple sat down at the upwind table.  It was a European couple.  As I approached them, I noticed the stench of B.O.  You’ve got to be kidding me. 

The crying baby and its lovely parents finally left.   The stench of B.O. mixed with the lingering caca was almost too much for me to handle.  Every time I went out there I literally had to keep myself from breathing in through my nose.

Two more groups of people came in and sat down on both sides of the older couple.  I felt so bad for these new diners knowing what I knew, and just holding breath (figuratively and literally) waiting to see if they’d say anything or asked to be moved.  As time progressed, I was getting more and more baffled by the stench.  It wasn’t going away.  In fact, it seemed like it was multiplying like a bad virus and gaining strength.  I asked my busser (who’s had three children) how long baby poop could linger.  He nauseatingly replied, “A while.  But not this long.  We need to call housekeeping.”  

As I stood perplexed at my computer, it hit me.  There’s no way baby poop could linger this long.  Not to be rude… but could this be the fault of the older couple?  Perhaps one of them needed to change his/her diaper.  Oh. My. God.  Thinking back, I didn’t smell anything until I sat them.  Could it be?  This whole time I’d been blaming the poor little baby.    

Luckily at this point, the older couple had asked for the check.  I was so eager for them to go so I could solve my Tuesday afternoon mystery.  If they left and the smell left with them, they were without a doubt the guilty ones.  God I don’t want to get old.    

They left and the smell dissipated.  Cased solved… kind of.  Shockingly, the dirty diaper smell continued to linger, much to my disgust.  I finally asked my manger to go outside and smell it out.  He did and swore he couldn’t smell anything.  Had I gone completely mad?  Was the stench so bad at one point it had burned my nostril hairs and was stuck inside of my nose?  Gross.  Lord help me. 

For the remainder of my shift, I could have sworn it still smelled like stale poop, just around that one table, the table where the older couple had sat, and yes, downwind from the crying baby table.  The only thing getting me through the remainder of my shift was dreaming of a bottle of Febreze in my hand so I could douse the affected area.  I also kept visualizing white linens blowing in the breeze on top of a green hillside in the sunshine - perhaps even a rainbow in the background - to get myself through.  I tried to think of anything that reminded me of freshness, flowers and cleanliness. 

I guess I will never know who dealt it, who was sitting in it, or who (or what) the culprit was.  The smell will forever remain a mystery, a legacy. 

I have to work again today at 4:00pm – in that same section.  Let’s just hope the legacy continues only in my head, not in the real world. 

Nothing like a day in the life of serving stinky humanity...  ~ HK ~