The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

I thought I was against the death penalty, but after what happened yesterday, I'm not so sure anymore.

Jeff Grand and I stop at a payphone on our way into the city.

We have plans to visit the Sydney Observatory along with Dawes Point and drop into the Visitors' Centre to book his Blue Mountains trip.

But first I want to make a few phonecalls home.

I've been extremely busy the past week wrapping things up at work and I haven't had any time to email or check in with things back in the states.

I am out of credit on my phone and don't feel like recharging it, so I decide to use the phonecard my parents left me and check in with them before it gets too late.

I pick up the phone and start trying to read the directions on the back of the phone card.
Jeff needs to use the payphone too, but is waiting until I am finished to make his calls.

It's been years since I've used a payphone.

So I'm trying to figure out what code to dial to call the United States and I smell something.

I have a "Hecker" nose. That's my mom's maiden name and it's been said that that side of the family has an amazing sense of smell. So it doesn't take long for me to detect some sort of foul smell in the area.

The payphone is situated right by a public transit stop of the monorail along with a large carpark, so you'd expect a certain array of smells.

But after only a few seconds I realize this is different.
This is stronger.

I smell the receiver of the phone.

I gag.

"This phone smells awful! Sick, public payphones are so dirty!"

(I continue holding the phone against my shoulder so it's pressed against my ear and cheek, using my two free hands to continue figuring out the phonecard)

"This phone really reeks. It's disgusting. Smell it Jeff."

At the same time my eyes are finally focusing on the cradle of the payphone.

There's something there.
There's something that's been there from the beginning of my phonecall but I never really noticed it.
I never connected everything.
Who would?

So this comes slowly.

I'm handing Jeff Grand the phone receiver to take a whiff at the same time I'm focusing on substance that seems to be smeared all over the cradle of the payphone.

"Oh my God, (before Jeff can smell the receiver) is it shit? Is that shit on the phone? Tell me! Tell me right now if that is feces smeared all over the phone!"

Jeff takes one apprehensive sniff, gags, and screams, "That is shit! And it's not just any shit, that's HUMAN shit!"

I throw the phone down and immediately start dry heaving.

It had been pressed up against my cheek, ear and hair but about 2 minutes straight.
The smell is so rank, so pungent, and now...now I fear the aroma is stuck to me.

I scream to Jeff that I reek of the human shit now.

He smells my ear and his screams confirm my worst nightmare.
The shit smell had been transferred to my face!

I continue gagging and screaming.
Jeff heaves himself over the railing of the walkway and tries to catch his breath (He's laughing so hard)

Who would do this?
What monster would smear his own poo onto a public payphone?

My mind is whirling.
Did he simply pull it out of his pants?
Did she do it at home in a bag and bring it with her?
Did he wait around the corner to witness the repercussions of his crime, or was he sitting in his office cubicle somewhere laughing at the prospect of innocent strangers essentially rubbing his feces on their faces?

What evil, twisted, and hateful soul would do such a thing?

We quickly make our way over to the bathrooms in the harbour shopping mall and I frantically wash my face/ear/hair.

When I emerge from the bathroom I instruct Jeff that we are not to mention it again for the rest of the day.

I have been broken.
I have been betrayed.
I have literally been shat upon.

A hilarious story to tell, of course.

But you know what?
I have enough funny stories, I don't need a Sydney Stranger Shit story.