“Alright, who farted?!”
Chelsey uttered suddenly as she covered her nose with the top of her sweater.
To be fair, it could have been any of us guys. We’ve been torturing her during our whole drive in New Zealand so far, but none of us made claim to this particular accusation. If any of us farted, we’d definitely admit it. However minutes later as we drove on, the smell still lingered and soon realized that none of us were the culprit. It was Rotorua in all her sulfuric glory.
Rotorua smells like freakin’ rotten eggs!
Seriously it reeks!
“How come no one warned us about this?” I gagged, mistakenly inhaling a big gulp of air in my mouth.
Even Chelsey, the group appointed New Zealand expert (she’s been happily reading her New Zealand Lonely Planet Guidebook for months), wasn’t aware. Ryan said that this was the worst smell he’s ever…