When Words Fail

While we were still living in Jamaica, my 16 year old son & I had an errand in New York. Our flight landed very late at JFK so we quickly rented a car & headed for the hotel.

The next morning it was pouring & we had about an hours drive ahead of us in unfamiliar Long Island traffic. We ran thru the downpour, hopped into our rental car & headed down the road, with our handy GPS.

As we drove along, I noticed my son kind of sniffing & looking at his hand.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"l hate to be rude," he said, "but, something really stinks & I just tested my breath & it's not me. Did you brush your teeth this morning?"
My hand flew up to my mouth. "Yes!!" I exclaimed. "Of course!" I sniffed around. "I don't smell anything."
"Well I sure do!" my son made a face. "Did you fart, maybe?"
"Ugh - NO!  Did you?"
"No."
"Maybe it's something outside."
"Maybe," my son said doubtfully. 

We drove on.  Soon he was sniffing again.
"NOW what?" I exclaimed, while keeping my ears open for any bit of wisdom from the GPS. Outside the rain continued to fall, drumming loudly on the roof of the car.
"It's getting worse!" he exclaimed in disgust.
"What is? The traffic? The rain?"
"The SMELL! Don't you smell it?"
"No."
My son attempted to open the window but the rain poured in like someone had thrown a bucket of water, so he quickly shut it again.

"Maybe you stepped in something in the parking lot." I ventured.
"No way," he stated firmly, as if such a thing was inconceivable. "I didn't see anything. I would have known."
Then, he crossed his legs & looked at his shoe. Apparently something on the bottom of his shoe looked suspicious, so what did he do? He took his bare hand & wiped at the offending splotch. He held his hand up to his face & inhaled with trepidation.
"EEW!"  he said.
"NOW I smell it!" I said, as the stench drifted across the car. "Why the heck did you wipe your HAND on it? What are you, stupid?" Okay, I admit that the 'stupid' comment is not in the parent manual, but - Hello! Sometimes you just gotta call a spade a spade, you know? My son, however, did not deviate from the teenage boy manual in HIS response. 
"I don't know."
"Well, I don't have any tissues & we are currently in the middle of a raging downpour on a six lane freeway full of traffic - it's not like I can pull over! Besides, we have a schedule to keep & I did not include time in my plans for the off chance that my idiotic son would decide to smear dog poop on his hands! You will just have to hold your hand like that until we get near a gas station!"
"Eew," he said glumly.

About 30 miles down the road, the rain slackened & we located a gas station, with no bathroom in sight. My son got out of the car, found a hose & finally washed his shoe & his hand, using the little hotel shampoo I snagged. He took the poop-smeared car mat & put it in the trunk & got back in the car. 

"You know," he said, while drying his hands on some piece of used clothing (I hoped) from his backpack, "I just can't believe it."
"What can't you believe?"
And in all sincerity he said, "I can't believe they rented us a car with a big piece of dog poop right there on the floor!"

Sometimes all you can do is shake your head...