Vacate the proximity! Getting a tram into city centre for work related social event. Have positioned myself on the inner/window side of the pairs seats (similar arrangement to buses but rather than benches the seats I guess are a bit more like on air craft sans divider). Passively admire the dapper umbrella owned by the well dress shitlord and lady sitting infront of me. They leave at the next stop, I have the next few minutes of mostly empty tram carriage to myself as we rattle along to the penultimate stop. A peculiar shudder passes through the superstructure of the carriage and I'm left wondering if the congestion in my sinus/ears is affecting my sense of balance, or perhaps there is a slight camber at this station. As I'm looking towards the floor a shadow looms through the carriage doors. Sensing danger I look up to find my worst suspicions being rapidly confirmed, the high pitched tone normally used to alert passengers that the doors are active act as a warning of the incoming planetary masses. The first, still reminiscent of the male form but with inflated abdomen distorting the graphic tee, imaginary lats failing to convey a normal shoulder to waist ratio ambles into the seats behind me. My gaze is still transfixed on what is looming towards me, my mind unable to decide whether to play the Jaws theme or Also sprach zarathustra. My eyes tell me what what shuffles before me is genetically female, but any trace of desirable feminity has been engulfed and consumed, presenting the world with a creature that I would estimate to be in excess of 315lbs. I scowl at the sight of my working deadlift set walking around like some Fantasia nightmare and then chastise myself for not moving realising that I am potential going to be wedged against glass, steel and blubber. The shibboleth fortunately sits on the seats in front of me. I should clarify, approximately 1/3rd of mass of this subject was well into the boundary of the other seat, an adolescent's worth of mass in the leg alone splayed into the aisle. I shuddered at the evident glaze on the clammy skin left exposed around the neckline...then, despite my impacted olfactory capacity owing to the previously mentioned cold, the odour hit me and my scowl became more of a grimace. I do not believe there is any other natural expression when bombarded with ripe cheese and ammonia.  Typically, there was no reaction when I snapped to my feet after locking eyes in a reflective piece of glass nearby and marched towards the nearest doors waiting for the moment I could get off. We were also treated to a comedian at said work social that was albatross-gulleted motherfucker that went on about gym bros, cheat meals and fatties and 'the war'. TL:DR - Fat people stink, both physically and in the delivery of stand up comedy.