Subway Sweats

There’s a lot of the subway sweaty butt seat thing I talk about in this week’s comic going on right now in New York, but I must say, it is not a phenomenon exclusive to summer. You see it all year long. And sweat is not really the right word. When you hear “sweat” you think actually liquid that can drip and form puddles. Really though, it’s more like what happens when you breathe on a window and it fogs up. I guess it’s just asses breathing. Asses, thighs and backs, that is. Ass breath is something completely different.

Yup, I’m really going highbrow this week.

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2 responses to “Subway Sweats

  1. Bitter Scribe

    I just started a job that requires me to take public transit to work. There’s nothing like riding the bus to make you realize how many really obese people there are in the world.

    Last week a woman who took up two seats was rhapsodizing about the cake, with whipped cream and hot fudge, she’d had in some restaurant the previous night. I sat there thinking, Geez louise, lady, think about ordering a fruit salad sometime.

    • It can be rough at sporting events too. Anything where you have assigned seats, really. I remember one time at a Mets game back in Shea Stadium, my dad sat next to this enormous woman whose side flab was oozing through the hole under the armrest into my dad’s seat.

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