It's 8 a.m. on a Tuesday. You're balancing a hot coffee on a crowded train, when it hits you — a smell so putrid, you consider burying your head in a stranger's puffy coat to escape the smell. But you can't — you're stuck underground in a poorly ventilated aluminum tube
The doors finally open and you tumble out, a brave survivor of The Underground Fart Cloud. Yes, that mass of air funk has a name.
Riding the subway creates distinct situations that require their own vocabulary. For example, how do you describe the mystery liquid oozing slowly out from under the plastic bench? Well, it's now called Foot Juice. Read more...
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