MASS TRANSITS & FOWL ODORS!

Depending on which city one lives in, public transport (or mass transit systems in some circles) can be classified as one or a combination of four things:

1. A luxury - 2. A necessity - 3. An adventure - 4. A what...?

 
Having lived in London, served my time in Washington DC, Los Angeles and now happily settled in Las Vegas, I have sampled each city's attempt at accommodating the mobile but car-free/car-less population.
     Which has brought me to one conclusion: mass transit systems undoubtedly boast a complete and diverse buffet of interesting characters, odors and goings on that private transport couldn't even begin to live through.
     From the harassed looking twenty-something with a stained shirt, to the over-worked middle aged two jobber who snores and drools on horrified foreign exchange students.
     “People watching” on trains, buses and even on planes can keep even a seasoned Attention Deficit Disorder sufferer occupied for days.
     There is however, a downside to being sardine stuffed in enclosed spaces with individuals one wouldn't otherwise invite to a pajama party:
     Odor!
     Mass transit systems are notorious for harboring some of the most offensive smelling individuals that any city has to offer.
     You know, the types who dare to leave their homes without honoring their showers with a visit but love to share odors that slide up one's nose and make it hurt!
     Basically, if a living human being's odor can justifiably be labeled as “rotten” then that is a situation that promptly needs handling with a scenty bar of soap!
     I complain about this because many a time I have found myself unceremoniously trapped with pungent individuals who are otherwise blissfully unaware of the stink they are causing.
     Seriously, at what point does one's nose become immune to the power of smell?

Ella Roberts,

ellasbooks.blogspot.com

MY FIRST TIME!

My first time coming to the States as an adult was – now looking back – quite a laughable experience!
     I guess if you subconsciously base a trip to New York on "Coming to America", some stupid nonsense is likely to happen right?
     As we landed at JFK on that March Monday morning, I spotted some white patches on the tarmac that looked suspiciously like left over ice.
     So after the chaos of getting herded off the plane like cattle and learning how to reuse my knees, I remember stepping out of the terminal and getting slapped back inside to look for more clothes by the sharp biting wind.
     You should have seen me pitifully rummaging through my oversized (again "Coming to America") but under-packed suitcase in the middle of the terminal.

London 0-1 New York

The first sit down restaurant I went to served seafood and of course I wasn't familiar with the system of tipping servers, nor was I used to overly nice waiting staff who spent a lot of time smiling and coming over to ask if everything was alright.

     If anything, that made me suspicious as to what they would be putting in my food when I wasn't looking.
     My first experience of calamari was at a lovely family owned Greek restaurant in London two months earlier and it was scrumptious!
     So when I saw it on the menu in New York I excitedly ordered it – instead what I was served was fried snake!
     Or at least that's what I think friend snake would taste like...
     Anyway, needless to say I wasn't very happy with that but I didn't yet know that I could get even by making deductions on the tip.
     Instead, I walked out with a bitter resentment for all seafood restaurants in New York City and a slimy taste in my mouth.

London 1-1 New York

Ella Roberts,

ellasbooks.blogspot.com