Stank

My walk to work smells like sewage.

Yes, it's sad but true. The majority of my 15 minute stroll to the subway is plagued with rotting garbage. And it’s not just any garbage, it's Chinatown garbage.

They say that your sense of smell is tied most closely to your memory. I really hope that each time I smell hot, rotting trash I am not whisked back to Canal Street. I've had enough thank you.

It's not all bad, once I clear the sewage radius, my walk is relatively scent-free. But one morning, I took the route that passes behind one of SoHo's swankiest restaurants. And I was very disturbed to inhale the scent of vomit wafting on the breeze. Not a lovely croissant smell, or even something mildly offensive and food-related like rotten bananas, but vomit. This caused concern. Did someone vomit on the street after the breakfast rush? Did someone puke in their kitchen? Why was I the only one with the common sense to put my hand in front of my nose? The whole scene was very strange. But I have vowed to not eat there again.
Sorry fellow NYers. I won't reveal the restaurant. I am most certainly over-reacting and would hate to ruin your good time with these nasty thoughts the next time you decide to dine here.

I find that I have an unusually heightened sense of smell, which is a totally lame super power (as proven by Pee-Wee Herman on Pushing Daisies) that causes more problems than rewards. Some scents are so strong to my delicate nose that I get completely turned off by common-place pleasing aromas. But then there are times when my super nose pays off.

A few years ago there was a cloud of maple syrup hovering over the New York area. I am not kidding. A strange maple syrup smell permeated the air over Manhattan and I smelled it first. OK, maybe I didn't exactly smell it first, but it did start over Lower Manhattan and I smelled it before anyone else I knew.

When folks (literally) caught wind of the scent, they were concerned. Was it bioterrorism? Armageddon? But I was unafraid. If this was the end of the world, it sure did smell nice. No one is worried that the whole of Chinatown smells like sewage, so why the concern over Eggos? It seems a bit counter-intuitive. If I was Shiva the Destroyer and planned to end the world, I would certainly opt for odor of Chinatown over maple syrup any day. But maybe Shiva’s got a twisted sense of humor.