Pong

We're all packed, we've done our laundry, we have all our remaining junk piled into a tiny space (in case the HOT has other visitors while we're away), we're ready to leave. And we just had some late lunch, which, having given no thought to the potential ramifications for whoever we sit next to over the next 24 hours or so, was packed full of freshly crushed raw garlic (not to mention the raw onions. It was salade nicoise and it was delicious).

Personally I would much rather sit next to someone who smelt like garlic than who smelt like stinky breath or sweat or other smelly bodily odours, but I am also willing to admit that this still might not be ideal. If I happen to be sitting next to you on a flight from Zurich this evening, I apologise in advance. Although secretly I am not really that sorry and I really think you should just get over it and stop being so sensitive.