Every Tuesday through Thursday, I walk about ten minutes from Grand Central Station to class. When I walk up from the subway stairs to exit onto the street, I am 100% certain that someone's smoking at the corner. In fact, I can bet that there at least five people standing along the outside of the Hyatt Hotel or Banana Republic puffing on a cigarette. You know it's bad when I have to decide whether I should slow down or speed up my pace to avoid the smoke...but it's a no-win situation: if I slow down, I take the chance of inhaling the smoke from smokers next to me (who will end up in front of me) and if I speed up, I might break a sweat. I don't like to sweat.
There are worse smelling things than cigarette smoke, like the mysterious stench of something moldy and wet, or the pungent stink of dried shrimp and fish...or someone's time of the month (I smelled those things yesterday on the subway), but at least they're not detrimental to my health. Not only do I detest the smell of cigarettes, I get crazy when my hair wreaks of it. Damn you smokers! If you want to ruin your lungs (and have yellow teeth and bad breath), leave my lungs alone!
Sometimes I wish I had the telekinetic ability to take smokers' cigarettes out of their hands and burn the cigarettes on their faces. (My dad is a smoker but I love him so I put up with him. I don't love smoking strangers so I could care less about them.)
1 comment:
Good to know you are crazy angry- looks like you are a "real" New Yorker now. Just watch yourslef to make sure you don't start muttering under your breath- sure sign of 100% crazy!
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