I woke up in a closet.


You don’t know what you got till it’s gone.

It’s been one day since I’ve had to transfer from the M to the G train at Broadway for my morning commute (house-sitting is a wonderful thing, people). And with the absence of this rapid transit staple in my daily life, I cannot say my heart has grown fonder. I can’t believe I just spewed that sentence. For the last two weeks, each time I got on the train, I decided that MTA must be playing a sick, sad joke on me. The G never fails to smell like something unique and equally gross each time I board.

I have compiled a list:

  • Poop. Straight up, fresh from the shoot.
  • Spicy homeless man. This is exactly what you think it is. Someone who hasn’t bathed for 6 months to a year doused in curry or cayenne pepper. Not to be sexist, but only a man could produce this kind of body odor. Most of the time women are a little less offensive.
  • Cat food. I don’t mean fancy feast either. When you walk into the car, it’s like opening up a cupboard under the sink full of dry Purina that became saturated from an unknown leak that had been around for weeks.
  • Dead Cat. For the sake of the cat food metaphor, if the G train was so irresponsible that it did not feed their fat for weeks, allowing the food to get all wet and moldy, then the cat would be dead, neglected, and probably fused to the bottom of a seat.
  • Fried Chicken or Chinese food. Look, we all get hungry. Sometimes we don’t have time to sit down and eat or wait until we get home, but seriously why eat on the subway? The answer must be 1. You really have no time. 2. You have no regard for the amount of recycled air and dead skin cells of your fellow passengers falling all over your food (it’s sad but true. Why do you think there are sneeze guards at Chinese Buffets?). 3. You’re fucked up. I know many a drunken/stoned time I’ve gotten ice cream or a bag of chips and absolutely could not wait another minute to experience all flavors. 4. You’re just hungry.
  • Moldy fruit. ‘Nuff said.
  • Wet, Mangy Rat. Broadway has an underground canal running through it on each side of the tracks. This also has to be the number one station that I spend the most time and that I’ve seen the most rats in. They must have set up a para-sailing rig on the back of the G.

I’ll stop there to put an end to all the disgusting smells that will remind me of the G train until the day I die or my olfactory nerve craps out on me. Also, while I was researching the G, the wikipedia page said that it’s so short because the trains were chopped from 6 to 4 cars in order to make more trains. I don’t understand.

Until Saturday when I must return to Ridgewood, I will bask in the more attractive/appetizing smells that the city has to offer. What are they? I don’t remember at the moment, but I’ll fill you in.

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