On board with a whiff

With the prospect of a four-day weekend thanks to Memorial Day, many people took Friday off. The trains this morning were pleasantly empty. However, that did not stop something odorific from happening to me on an otherwise beautiful Friday morning. In Orange a man sat down next to me, but I knew he was coming well before he sat down. No, I am not psychic. Through the power of smell, I sensed his imminent arrival. 

For some reason, after he had shaved this morning, he thought it a good idea to dunk his head in a large vat of aftershave. He then looked at himself in the mirror, said, "Lookin' good, sexy!" and walked to the train station. Once on the train, he stopped by the door to let every passenger slowly inhale his excellence before casually walking down the aisle, stopping occasionally to let those he passed take a nice, long whiff of his greatness. Seeing me, he turned into my seat and thought to himself, "This young man needs a pick-me-up. And my intense and splendid aroma is just the prescription he needs."

Little did he know that what I really needed was an Allegra. And his aftershave only made that need stronger.

On board with a national championship

Allow me to go off topic for a moment:


Franklin Street: The Celebration from The Daily Tar Heel on Vimeo.

And I will say this: taking the last train from NY home on a Monday night is an entirely different experience than taking a rush hour train. The train was almost empty save for a few people traveling alone, and I couldn't help but wonder what each of their stories were. Why were these people traveling from NY to NJ at 12:45? And the one guy who sneezed 45 times in a two minute span: why did you even leave your house?

On board with that stink

As an everyday user of public transportation, I have gotten used to smelling the most wretched odors imaginable. There are the smells of BO that permeate Penn Station. There is the strong stench of urine in the underpass at the Subway station at Spring St. And let's not forget the people who are very comfortable passing gas on crowded cars; God love 'em, they are unashamed.

But this morning I had a first. On the subway on the way to work this morning, a man came onboard holding his 3- or 4-year-old daughter, whose rear was near my head, and I got the unmistakable whiff of a soiled diaper.  The car was crowded, so she stayed by my nose until the next stop, when thankfully, dad moved closer to the door and I was allowed to breathe again. He got off at the stop before me, and I can only hope - for the other people of New York - that he changed that diaper soon after. She may have been small, but she did her part to make NYC public transportation one the smelliest in the world.

Rain rain, go away ... oh wait you did

I propose a moratorium on umbrella use when it is not raining.

Yesterday, on a morning that was dark and foggy - yet remarkably dry - there stood a woman on the platform of the train station holding a large, yellow umbrella. Holding it above her head, she took up a good three square feet of prime real estate - including the spot on the platform where I typically like to stand. What was most peculiar about this all, though, was that it was not raining. It had not rained for some time, in fact, and still she stood, isolated in her imaginary downpour. I stood next to her and stared for a while, my hands empty and yet still managing to stay dry.  After a few minutes, she realized that her umbrella was entirely gratuitous and put it down. 

I thought her ability to irritate me had passed, but after two solid minutes of fidgeting to tie up her umbrella, she popped a piece of chewing gum - mint I believe - into her mouth and chewed that stuff like a cow chowing on grass. There are few things that annoy me more than someone chewing with their mouth open, and this woman managed to make every other lip smacker I've ever met sound like a congregation of librarians. I swear I could hear her over the train as it barreled up the tracks. And this was with my headphones in. Maybe I should have gone to more concerts growing up. My hearing wouldn't be so sensitive, and I'd have more ticket stubs for my scrapbook.*

*There is no scrapbook.

Not on board at all

Some days the stars just align. I worked from home today because I had to visit the doctor today (nothing serious) and a series of unfortunate events transpired today that I was lucky enough to avoid. First, electric problems caused delays for all trains the morning, which, having had to meander around New York/Hoboken to get around this before, I can aver is awful.

Then around 3:00 I heard from coworkers that a fire alarm had sent everyone out of our building, though to be fair, it was a nice day to be outside. Naturally, I laughed and laughed at having missed all of this, which can only mean that tomorrow will be exponentially worse, and I should go ahead and plan on karmic retribution. Stupid karma.

On board, and keep walking

This is a public service announcement:

When boarding the train, walk to the center of the care before sitting. This will allow passengers boarding after you to find a seat and will result in a smoother flow of traffic. Sitting in the first available seat - when there are many others beyond it - will cause a logjam of passengers waiting behind you while you stand in the aisle waiting for someone to stand up and let you in.

Thank you for your attention.

On board with a stench

While taking the train into and from work each day has its drawbacks, there are definitely perks to riding during rush hour.  Typically, the people you ride with are impeccably groomed business men and women who are quiet and respectful of others.  Notice the word "typically."  Yesterday was anything but.

On the way into New York, we had to make an unscheduled stop and pick up a swarm of people in Newark because of a broken down train in front of us.  Naturally, this happened on a rare morning where I was able to sit in a three-person seat with just one other, normal-sized human.  The herd of people - waiting on the platform they were about 4-5 rows deep - pushed their way in, and I saw the typical (there's that word again) types find seats in front of me. 

And then I spotted him.  I large man, sloppily dressed, out of breath, and moving towards me. As soon as I saw him, I knew he would end up sitting next to me.  That is my luck; I attract fat dudes.

I let him into the middle seat, he took off his coat, and I smelled it.  This was B.O. on an order I am not accustomed. Walking in Penn Station and riding on the subway, where homeless people often reside for hours, you will smell something like this.  But an experienced commuter can avoid these smells; yesterday morning, I was pressed up against it like tootsie rolls in a pinata. And I prayed that someone would whack me free.

Naturally, I wondered how anyone who was ostensibly riding into the city for work could smell so bad, so early in the morning. Had he not showered? Had he worked up a sweat ... walking through the aisle of the train?  What was this large fellow up to at 7:00?  I decided to stop wondering and instead sit with my hand over my face, turned the other way, happily thinking back to times when I had experienced other questionable smells: Wading through liquid pig fat on Interstate 40 for a story? Not as bad.  Driving through Richmond where it wreaks of sulfur? A meadow of pleasantness.  Using the bathroom at any Bojangle's in America? I welcome a return visit. This man beat them all. Congratulations.  I hate you.