Call the Justice League of Super-Lame-o's.

It's official: My superpower is an extraorindary sense of smell. You will all, of course, remember my post on the legality of perfume. Yesterday on the 5:00 pm shuttle (rivaled in popularity only by the 8:30 am shuttle), a young woman sized up the possible shuttle-mates, and apparently, found me the most suitable choice. She didn't look offensive, seemed fairly recently showered, and had a book. A good shuttle-mate, indeed. I politely moved my bookpack in between my legs to open up the seat next to me.

We were in agreement. We would be sharing intimate space for the next thirty minutes.

Ah, but then I began to smell something. Wasn't perfume. Definitely, definitely nail polish remover. This struck me as odd; she clearly wasn't painting her fingernails currently. I looked at her nails, and they were manicured, but chipping; so she hadn't tried to strip the pretty off right before boarding.

Maybe I was just crazy.

Me: "Do you smell nail polish remover?"
Her: "No...hmmm"
Me: "It's so weird! I know I smell nail polish remover."
Her: "Oh, it could be my bag; I carry it with me to work in case I want to do my nails when I'm bored. Yeah, it's in here...it's closed, but it's probably me."

Damn bottle wasn't even open, y'all. Hadn't even been used.

So, I'm not crazy, but apparently have a lucrative career option as drug-dog-human available to me. And that's something, right?

P.S. In my move, I found one of those sample packets of perfume/eau de toilette, or whatever. I like Miyaki, because his scents are usually so light, and my nose will let it slide if I dare to dab a drop on. I opened the packet, and found a moist towelette, which I cautiously dabbed on my neck (didn't know if it was some kind of body-freshener thing, or supposed to be used for perfume purposes).

Now, the damn stench clinging to my neck is having a grand time of punching my nose like a flowery fist.

Argh.