The good ol' subway

As the subway train pulled up I noticed that all the seats were full as usual. I was waiting where I knew a door would be. I glanced in before the door opened to see that there were plenty of seats here, and I couldn’t wait to sit down to massage my temples and coerce this migraine into leaving. It felt like a slap to the face as I entered the train. The pungent smell of feces had forced vacancy in this section. I was already sitting. My survival instinct told me to find the source of such abomination and either eliminate it, or get as far away as possible. I noticed the bum standing by the train door. He was holding a bag. My first thought was, maybe he’s holding a sack of doggie poop. My next thought was, maybe he’s holding a bag of human poop. Next, That’s way too foul to be only poop. Then my heart dropped. He probably hasn’t showered in weeks or maybe months. He probably sleeps in a dumpster. I was trying to decide how someone could possibly get that dirty to smell so bad. A nice woman came and offered him a bag that had food in it. He said he had food and got off at the next stop. I was only on that train with him for that normally short distance from the one stop to the next, but his smell lingered. He waddled out of the train leaving a defecated stench and a brown bile trail. He dragged his right leg, which was huge, but I don’t think his leg was bigger than the other. I assumed he used his pant leg as a latrine. His stink is indescribable and for the time it took to get to the next stop, my stop, I dry heaved the entire time. I tried to control it, but I was sure I was going to lose it. The stop couldn’t come fast enough. I ran up the stairs to fresh air.
I’ve become very fond of these stairs and this intersection as it has brought me joy time and time again, to come out of that horrible dark dungeon full of reek.