Plug It In, Plug It In

I spent the summer between my freshman and sophomore years in college studying abroad in Madrid. The average temperature during my stay was probably 95 degrees, and unlike Boston, it does not become cooler at night. Stepping out into the sunshine was the equivalent of sticking your head in a preheated oven. The stifling heat combined with the tendency of people older than 50 not to wear deodorant, meant that once in awhile I was treated to some ripe B.O. That was 10 years ago, and strangely enough, whenever my nostrils are assaulted with the scent of someone's malodorous pits, I'm flooded with happy memories of my Spanish summer.

I'm curious to see if 10 to 15 years from now, when I'll probably be living outside of the immediate downtown area, if the smell of horse pee will bring back great memories of time spent near the South Market Builiding in Faneuil Hall.