babeville

Everyone in Babeville is there to see the same little folksinger. And everyone in Babeville has the same sneer of disgust on their face.

I look around at all of the sneering faces, and each was searching the room. And like a well troupe: heads slowly lower as arms reach to the sky and the masse sound of seven hunderd people smelling their arm pits fills the room that once hosted Sunday mass. When I finally make eye contact with one of the sneering sniffers, the silent conversation goes something like this:

My Eyes: uh...I know it deodorized. I swear it's not me.
Sneering Eyes: I've already asked everyone that I came with, we're all odor neutral.
M.E.: Okay, let me do a 'turn-in-my-spot' maneuver and see if I can get a general direction d'odour.
S.E.: I'll do the same. Meet you here in thirty seconds.

I am ninety degrees into my scheduled 360 degree turn when Ifind myself face to face with the worst smelling hippie I've ever laid eyes on.

I gasped audibly. Spin and wait for my sneering partner-in-crime to return to our agreed upon meeting point. When her eyes meet mine, I realize I cannot, with my eyes alone, inform her of my findings. So I make a fist with my left hand, extended the thumb and inplicate the hippie couple behind me.

Her smile: grateful.

She winks, turns and relays the information to the other Ani fans in her posse.

And the information spreads.
I see other members of the crowd begin to make bets with their friends regarding the culprit of the scent.

And one by one the winners were villified. Gays and lesbians in a church betting on the smelly straight couple. Gays and Lesbians in a church, winning a bet.

Not exactly groundbreaking.

It's a goood thing Ani was there.