After taking in a few beers at the Siberia Bar (a cool as shit bar actually located in the Subway system of NYC about to be closed by the MAN!), I was waiting in the Times Square station for the notoriously late-running N train. Up the tracks there was some sort of construction taking place, but we were shielded by a large tarp of plastic and tape. Or so we thought.

An express train on the opposite track whizzed through the station, as they are prone to do, there as sheering the top layer of tape holding on the protective plastic away. As the tarp hit the ground, a large whitish cloud bellowed out and started towards us. But since it creeped from the exit side, we were fucked. As the cloud engulfed victim after victim in a chain reaction of horror and distress, people, like me farther down the track, looked for a way out. Of course in true NYC-style, it was closed and chained shut.

Though I put my shirt over my mouth and tried not to breath in the horrid filth, the cloud of death monkey-breathe now accounted for our entire atmosphere. My lungs still started to burn and my eyes turned red like I had just finished a huge splif of the finest Jamaican-blend. Later that night I was in a full on allergic reaction to whatever that cloud was.

I got off easy, since the old man next to me looked like he was going into respiratory arrest, and a few others did not look too hot either. Lucky for all, the train showed up a mere minute after the onslaught had began to whisk us away.

When I got home I called the MTA, only to get a recording and no response. In New York City only the rich and strong survive, because nobody is accountable for anything, not even little white happy clouds of death and destruction.