Commuter Contempt

Every morning, when I emerge from the catacombs of Gran Central onto Madison and 47th, I have to walk by a Cafe Metro. Walking by is not the problem, it’s the exhaust vent that blows in my face at 45mph, and smells like sauteed skunk rectum in a homeless man’s urine reduction sauce. It is just one of the more unpleasant encounters on my walk to work from the train.