A couple of days ago, I got on the 2 train as I do every Saturday morning to head into work. I had started pre-walking (subway lingo I learned from Subwayland, a book written by Randy Kennedy - gotta give the props) but ended up entering a car that was somewhat full.
I got in and was happily surprised to find that the two-seater to my left was completely empty. So I sat down and started reading my book. The folks that were sitting directly across from me were packed in like sardines and I immediately wondered why no one had moved across to the bench I was on at my stop.
On my first inhale, I realized why! The smell of piss was intoxicating. I quickly realized I was sitting on the bench where someone with a bladder control problem had probably just gotten off! So, what do I do? Those of you that are pimp tight with me already know that I carry a little perfume bottle with me at all times for just these occasions. So I sprayed a little bit on my finger and spread it right above my upper lip. That helped somewhat.
But, then the real problem. As we stopped at the other stations, folks would get on, but no one would take the empty seat next to me. I was getting looks from my fellow riders, that I interpreted as one of two extremes: "Girl, that's so gross! How can you sit there? Aren't you about to pass out?" or "Gosh, you don't look like you're homeless, but, damn, you stink!" And then the thoughts that were going through my head: "I'll move to a seat on the next stop. This city is full of filth; sitting in the stinky spot ain't gonna kill me. There's no actual liquid, so my clothes aren't going to get ruined. Why don't these people stop staring at me???"
Then I went back to thinking about my clothes. Will the smell of piss smell linger from one person's clothing to another? I decided to stay seated until I got to my stop because I didn't want to run the risk of getting up, standing next to someone and have that person think I'd pissed on myself! So instead, I decided to scoot up to the edge of the seat, hoping that my clothes wouldn't get all Pepe LePew'd by sitting all the way back on the bench.
I finally found some relief when a young man got on and sat next to me. I felt redeemed by thinking, "You guys are the pendejos for not taking a perfectly good seat on this packed train." Soon I realized he only sat down because he had a heavy ass backpack on and needed to finish filling out some form before he got off two stops later.
Anyway, at 42nd Street, I had to transfer to the local, the 1 train. I took a whiff of myself and happily discovered that the funk was going express...
