The office complex I work in suffers from somewhat unfortunate placement. To the east, there’s a horse pasture. To the west, there’s a cow pasture. Between the buildings on the north-south axis is a pond that sometimes goes stagnant and nasty in the summer. On a good day, either a north or south wind will bring only slightly smoggy air. On a bad day, someone is inevitably going to be downwind of something unpleasant. (Most of us agree that the horse pasture is the least of the evils when the pond is at its worst.)
The town I grew up in had a cotton gin, and for a few weeks each fall, the town was covered with drifting bits of wayward cotton fluff and the acrid reek of burning detritus from the gin. That was far preferable to the smell that permeated the riverside neighborhood and occasionally wafted over the town, though. Near the river, logically enough, was a place that sold supplies to commercial fishermen. Those supplies included “cheese”. This is not cheese as you or I know it; this is cheese for catfish, which like to eat rotten crap off the bottom of a river. It’s also referred to as “stinkbait”; the primary component actually is cheese…mixed with slightly rotten pig brains and small bait fish, then allowed to ferment. I understand there’s an additive you can use for the cheese in place of the other ingredients now. Said additive bears the brand name “Liquid ASS”, and I suspect it’s one of those rare cases where the branding understates the product’s qualities. The eye-watering foulness of the reek from that place was astonishing. Fortunately, it was usually confined to the riverfront.
I used to live a small city away from a Tropicana plant. Every so often when the wind was right you could smell it. But I often drove past it on my way to another city and always got a good whiff of it. You would think that a plant that makes orange juice would smell nice and orangey, right? Hell no, it was foul. It was like a mixture of burnt orange peel and Satan’s toilet. Puts me off orange juice for a while.
In my travels around the state the only thing I ever encountered that smelled worse was Jacksonville. You could see the smell.
It figures that no one else had mentioned orange processing plants and in the time I was writing my post someone beat me to it.
Around Cambridge there are several Necco candy factories with associated yummy scents. Thin Mint day is a good day to be walking by.
On the other hand, when walking home from Harvard Square I often take a shortcut through the alley behind the Biolabs building, which has a powerful odor of eau de mouse due to the outflow ducts from the forced-air cage ventilation system; a fine mixed bouquet of urine, “musky” (from male mouse pee) and old sweat socks. By virtue of long exposure I kinda like it. The Biolabs’ neighbors, not so much.
The lyrics in the OP are from the Jacksonville band Lynard Skynard’s song “The Smell”. While the song is ostensibly about the stench of vomit etc. of an alcoholic/drug addict, my school buddies always used to joke that it was about the paper mill plant on the Northside, which, when the wind was right, would bring forth the most gawdawful stench, like what you would get if 1000 ents all decided to fart at once.
It’s amazing how bad some foods can smell when being processed.
Somewhere between San Francisco and Palm Springs is a sugar factory. The smell of converting sugar beets into table sugar can be horrific. And, around this time of year, the Campbell’s Soup factory on the south side of Sacramento emits a pungent stink of cooked and rotten tomatos.
I know it’s summer in Seoul when I catch a whiff of rotting garbage walking down the street. I swear that smell is everywhere. And during monsoon season, right before a typhoon breaks, when the weather is at its hottest and stickiest . . . yeeeech.
On the other hand, I love it when I get off the train after work and smell roasted chicken stuffed with rice and garlic. There’s a guy that sells the stuff a few times a week, off the back of his truck. It is awesome stuff.
Did you happen to notice my this comment in my post?
I last visited J’ville in the mid-80’s. I can only imagine it got worse since then. I would guess the locals get used to it. I never understood how paper could smell so bad.
I live north of farmland. Let’s just say, you know when they’re fertilizing. I have no AC and I’ve been woken up some nights by my nose trying to crawl into my head to escape.
I think the plant got closed down, or bought out, recently. But since I don’t live in that part of town anymore and only drive there when going to the airport, I don’t know for sure.
Decatur, Illinois–home of Archer Daniels Midland, world’s largest grain processor.
Oy.
A constant distinctive smell of “jeez, what IS that smell, some kind of cooking grain?”, nothing you can really identify, but ever-present, and on days when an inversion layer hovers over the city, quite obnoxious.
We moved here in 1986, and in those days it was noticeably better on Sundays, but then on Monday mornings it fired up again, plus there was a distinct “burned” overtone to it, quite as if you’d scorched a pot of beans on the stove. After a few years it stopped doing that, so I suppose either they changed their processing schedule or their equipment, or both.
On spring and fall days when there’s a brisk thunderstorm followed by a crisp breeze straight out of the west, you actually can’t smell it. However, on those days, you can catch distinct whiffs of somebody’s hog or cattle operation out on Wyckles Road west of town.
