Is this a rib? In my lovely town of San Francisco, the smell of urine has nought to do with canines.
I often come up from the Civic Center BART station at 7th and Market, in front of the check cashing place. Perhaps because of that place this is a hangout for various street people, at least one of whom seems to take periodic pleasure in decorating the up escalator with their pee. Perhaps he (and I assume it would have to be a “he”) is marking his territory. Most times riding that escalator is a signal to breathe through the mouth and to not touch anything on the way up except the steps with the soles of one’s feet.
Further down, near 6th Street, is some kind of taqueria with a huge fan pushing their cooking smells out into the street. I don’t know if it’s the time of day (morning) or the contents of their cuisine, but it is the most obnoxious mystery-meat smell, and I can’t imagine eating there. It causes me to lose my appetite every morning - not actually a bad thing, since I am always trying to control my eating.
Unfortunately there aren’t any noticeable good smells in places where I normally go. Normally it’s just fresh air, which is fine with me.
Roddy
I used to work in Dublin in an office above a Lush store. They absolutely stink of florid cosmetic shite, especially when they’re taking deliveries.
Combine that with the year the river Liffey mostly dried up, and the stench of it wafting in with the overpowering Lush aroma means that now, whenever I walk past a Lush shop, I think immediately of rotting silt.
When I lived near Mobile, it was a paper mill. Strange smells from it - some days you’d swear it was like a vast pile of Doritos warming in the sun.
In Wichita we got occaisional whiffs of rendering plant - not a good one there.
West Kansas has Dodge City. Once the site of famous gunfights it’s now a beef-producing town and, therefore, surrounded by feed-lots. They say it’s the smell of money but to me it’s just cow shit.
Denver smells like a city but every now and then the winds shift around and bring the rich smell of the mountains down. You wake to crisp morning air filled with the smell of millions of pine trees. It wakes all those warm memories of family vacations in the forest or Christmas mornings before the artificial tree. Those are good mornings.
There is a paper mill in Palatka, Florida, where my grandparents had their vacation home. We’d go stay there with them every summer. I have no sense of smell, so I always thought it was bizarre that just as we crossed the river, the grownups would start making fart jokes. They didn’t seem to think that stuff was funny at any other time…
One joke commonly heard among the Palatka kids: Didja hear about the guy and the girl making out on Lover’s Lane? Yeah, they were like really getting into it and the girl says, “I want you to kiss me where it stinks!” So he drove her to Palatka.
You forgot Staleys on the west side of town, which smells like overcooked french fries, and that’s a pig farm out on Bearsdale road. Cows smell much better.
