The Curse of The Green Olive Smell

Leaving work was much like any other, as I stepped out into the new warmth of spring. The sun felt nice as I greeted it outside, however, quickly became an enemy as I stepped into the Mordor of my car. I knew, at that moment, that summer was upon us. While the the firey interior of my car was nuisance enough, I wish that that was the only enemy of the day, because, you see, as I sat down in my drivers seat I was engulfed in a the pungent aroma of the cursed green olive.

Green olives. The bandit of the fruit-like nation. You see, I've never been fond of this little worm. While the salted, watered down, ripened, perfectly preserved olives you find in a can are delicious to my taste buds, the curse of the green olive will go down in my memoir as my enemy.

It took several years to even discover my hatred of the food, and I can pin-point the day it happened; It was on New Years Eve 2009. I joined my best friend and partner in crime, Tanner, to his family gathering. There was good food to be served, and pleasent conversation to be had. Scanning over the table of hors d'oevres, I was greeted by the unfimilar site of a round green surprise. Tanner quickly dove in to devour the treat with zero hesitation, and as history would have it, my dear friend had never steered me in the wrong direction before. I'm a creature of curiostiy, and a follower of my friend; I reached down and picked up a green olive. I examined it. I scoured my thoughts. I recalled the days of my youth as I would pick BLACK olives out of a can, placing them on each finger thinking I was the shiz. With a chuckle of the past, I delved into this unkown relative of something I'd always loved.

If rising gas prices could be a snack, I'm certain it would be the green olive.

My eyes began to water, my stomach began to churn, and my body tensed up as I looked for a way out of this seemingly awful decision. To my dismay, there was no garbage can to be seen among the crowds of strangers. I was desperate. I found a napkin, and hastily spit the chewed up nightmare into it, securely folding it up as to not be seen by disapproving eyes. With the lack of garbage can, and the foul taste clouding my judgment, I placed the chewed food, and wet napkin into my pocket.

The taste stayed in my mouth for days. The smell rented my nostrels for months. My jeans even housed it's remnants. It was after this experience I KNEW I had finally found my opponent.

Also, while in Germany several years ago, I often caught smells of green olives in the towns, in the fields, and strangely enough, everywhere. The smell, although awful, also had remnats of The Father Land. Love hate relationship between that memory. Just a side note. Carry on.

SO! As you can imagine, the strange green olive smell within my car was an unwanted surprise. I was confused... I was maybe a even a little sad. I searched my car, and found nothing to resemble a green olive. Maybe the smell was coming from outside. My week continued on, and I continued my 1.5 hour daily commute to and from work, and, still, I was a slave to the gagging aroma of death. Turn the air conditioner on, it got worse. Roll the windows down, it still stayed. I was a prisoner in my own vehicle. The oder even became trapped in my nostrels, like it so annoyingly does, and followed me to the gym! I was trying to run to escape the smell, but couldn't! It was WITHIN me. Was this my life now? Was this my destiny? What had I done to deserve to be trapped in a constant dual with my darth vader... my sworn enemy. I had sucumbed to the realization that I would never know.

A week had gone by, and I was heading out to my brother's house for a memorial day BBQ. The drive to draper, while slightly longer than the one to work, was routine for me. I knew the roads, and drove like I do...deep in thought. It hit me like a ton of bricks. With a sift flick of the neck I turned down, glaring at my cup holder. Could it be? My heart beat fast as I was sure I'd cracked the case, and as gollum did in Lord of the Rings, (Psh, like I even know what i'm talking about. Never seen it,) I picked up the Keva Juice cup, examining "my precious." Was this, at least 6 day old, fruit smoothie the cause of my dilemma? I pulled off the crusted on lid, and have mercy, a wave of stank overcame my body. A stank that was unmistakable. A stank that had haunted me for several years. Yes, it's true; the rotting, half drunk smoothie was the source of the green olive smell.

Half overjoyed, and half ready to hurl, I pulled over to the nearest garbage can and slam dunked that cup into it! I had defeated the smell! I had defeated the green olive!

Why I didn't think to throw away the cup a week earlier... I'll never know.

This is the story of the green olive smell. This is a glimpse into why I avoid the olive bar at harmons. This is a glimpse into the ONE thing i am picky about eating. THIS is a story of survival.

GREEN DEATH