16 May, 2008
Why Public Transportation Stinks
Posted by: Justin In: PSA| You wouldn't like me when I'm angry
So we had our first hot day of the year yesterday here in the Rose City, with temperatures peaking somewhere between Just About Perfect for Justin and OHMYFUCKINGGODKILLMENOW. Closer to the former, thankfully. Somewhere in the 80s, I think, which, for Portlanders, is like 249 in dog degrees.
Anyway.
In Portland, the littlest bit of sunlight brings out all sorts of wackiness. People start coming out from under the rocks, staring at the strange, warm, glowing object hovering in the sky until it burns holes in their retinas. They congregate in the parks and on the waterfront wearing clothes they have no business donning in public (the sight of which can, like the sun, burn holes in retinas).
And they fucking smell. Badly. Like someone used a thousand dead, wet dogs to mop up the runners’ sweat and puke after the Boston Marathon, left the infested corpses out to bake in the sun for a week, squeezed every drop of putrid liquid out of what remained, added a hint of sulfur and a dab of cat piss, then bathed in it for a month.
And they ride my train.
Say hello to my train buddy from last night:
No, he’s not wearing a sweater under that muscle shirt.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t fault a guy for being on the furry side. Sure, I don’t think that’s the best fashion choice for someone who looks like they could have played the starring role in Son of Chewie, but I could tolerate the view.
The stench, on the other hand… Sweet Zombie Jesus. At every stop, I prayed that a dozen wet, drunk, homeless guys might step on the train to drown out the smell.
Oh, and to add to the fun? This was my view during the first 15 minutes of our time together:
Yes… And every time the door opened, what normally would have been a delightful summer breeze instead became the noble steed for the fifth horseman of the apocalypse that raced from dude’s pit straight into my brain.
In conclusion, I hate summer. The end.
