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Sardines In A Can

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I often write about subway life, the only way to get around quickly in Manhattan. The trains are truly amazing, until they get stuck with you smashed against some guy with breathtaking BO that is.

He was nice looking…corporate and confident, till his arm went up to seize the straphanger hanging above my unsuspecting head.

Oh my God…I was suddenly in a locker room with the Green Bay Packers.   images-1 I know, why didn’t I just move? No room…it was early morning rush hour, freezing…so the car was packed with people three times their normal weigh in fur coats…parkas that seemed like inflated life rafts. Even I had that size 14 look, my many layers expanding me on all sides. How else do you battle winter…I get it…but soap isn’t seasonal. We have access to Dove and Dial all year round.

This guy with his gym bag opted to either not shower before he worked out, or didn’t bother afterwards.

I’m from Connecticut, there was no way I could comment. All I could do is pray the train commenced, and soon.

However, something did happen that made me laugh…through my mouth that is. There was a rather robust African American woman on the other side of him who kept crinkling up her nose. I watched her throw back her head…attempt to turnaround without success since her girth made it somewhat impossible. But she kept moving around I guess to lessen the odor that believe me, was enough for me to produce an essay with it as a theme.

The guy towering over her said in a tone he would live to regret, “Lady, could you just stop moving around so much. It would help to just try to make the best of things.”

OOPS…her face took on an expression of slowly I turn…or not turn in her case.

You’d have to be a Lucy fan to get the reference.

“I would,” she said, “if you’d take that Godforsaken arm down so the rest of us could breathe.”

Did I fall in love with her.

It was as though the conductor or the car itself heard what she said, because lo and behold it began to move and before you could say, hold your breath for just one more minute, the  doors opened and Mr. I forgot my Mennen Speed Stick, got off.

Finally, elbow room and fresher breath.

Only in New York, as columnist Cindy Adams would say…only in New York…

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SB



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