Subway Stories #7 - Adventures on the F Train

"Stand clear of the closing doors... Ding Dong." This is what I heard as I ran down the stairs (as if being chased by Kujo) in 2 1/2" heels. "Hold the door" someone yelled. My arm prevented the door from closing all the way, how dumb. The door opened again and this time I managed to squeeze my torso in between the train doors, even more dumb. This time the doors opened all the way and I made it in, along with four other people. I spied a seat and sat down with glee.

As I sat there getting my iPod from my Speedy I smelled the most vile scent. "WTF is that smell?", I thought to myself. Perpendicular to me sat a man with the most disgusting breath I've even been subjected to. If I had to describe the scent I'd say it smelled like 3 week old rancid egg salad and boiled baloney (wtf is in baloney anyway?) left on the platform at Lexington & 51st in mid-July during rush hour - FUNKY!!!

He was the color of burnt-sienna (you know that diarrhea color that no one used in the 64 color variety Crayola box of crayons. Might I add that only the privileged kids had this box. Sh*t, that box was about $5 back in the day. For a gal in my late twenties that's a lot!). He had on a matching denim jacket and jeans, white Reebok classics, a blue, cream & green Scandinavian hat with a black coat (The North Face's cousin, The South Face, lol). He sat there so sure that he was the sh*t. No black man, your breath smells like sh*t. When he regurgitates fecal matter surely comes up through his esophagus, how else could his breath be scientifically explained?

I knew his breath was the culprit of that putrid smell because as I started to look at him he yawned. "Noooooooooooooooo, close your mouth!", is what I felt like screaming, but I didn't. I just thought to myself about his train companion. Poor her. I'm convinced, her olfactory nerves must have died from repeated exposure to his breath.

The train slowed down to prepare for the next stop, 169th street. Someone across the way got up, so I prepared to take their seat. As I sat down I looked across from me, a brotha into his paper. To his left, a Latina resting. To my right, there he was! "Hey you guys!!!!" In the flesh was 'One-eyed Willie'!!



He had his pirate's booty and everything (in two big blue garbage bags). Never mind the fact that he didn't look too clean, he had on several layers of clothing, and his beard was unruly. His scully was strategically pulled over the spot on his face where his eye would have been (clever ole' Willie) and his hood covered his hat. He didn't want anyone to know his true identity, but I knew. A real goonie knows.



He glared at me out of that one eye so intensely that I grew a bit afraid. I stood my ground and remained in my seat, he wouldn't hurt me..... Or would he?

If I successfully transcribe this piece from my BB to my PC at work then I have been spared my life... This time.