being trapped in a stuffy L train car with a greasy bag of McDonald's. Last night it had been raining, so the poor olfactory nerves were working overtime. Mickey D's on the train is bad enough when there are no other odors to contend with. But combine wet hair and damp clothes with the scent of slick and slimy fries, and it's intolerable.
When the offending subjects started whipping out fries to share, I bolted out of my seat and headed over to the back of the train. My troubles only increased. A young man had a medium sized pie from Pizza Hut and proceeded to shove a limp slice down his mouth.
Dining on the train is just plain gross. I've popped a couple of Fruit Snacks here and there in my day; but Fruit Snacks don't smell or leave stains. Eating cooked food on the train is akin to public grooming. It's no better than cutting nails and mascara application. No one should be subjected to such crude behavior. Just as the gentleman who clips his toenails into the atmosphere risks injuring someone with the remnants of his sharp talons, the fry eaters of the world are ruining freshly laundered clothes. I had just gotten my wool coat back from the cleaners.
Fry eaters, nail clippers, and make up applicators, if you're reading, I have a message for you:
You are NOT at home! Clean up your vulgar manners at once! However, The Style Therapist has a good heart and is willing to offer a discount on my services if you promise to change your ghastly ways!
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