Where's My Inhaler!

The smell of urine and heat singed my nose hairs as I hesitantly walked down the stairs to my platform, my heels sticking to each step as I went. I could hear the invisible substances each time I lifted my feet.

Reaching the landing, a homeless man, adorned with tattered, black denim and a dingy polo shirt I assumed was once white, held out a mason jar, jingling the coins a few singles in it. I made the mistake of making eye contact. Not because I harbored any negativity toward those in need, but because I rarely carried cash and now I had to at least put for thee effort to stop and help. As I put on an Emmy worthy performance, feverishly searching for a dollar or at minimum, some spare change, I noticed my train pulling onto the platform.

"I'm sorry, I can't find any cash and my train is here." I offered while backing away.

I hated public transportation. Not because of my social anxiety. And not because my type A personality made me cringe at another individual behind the wheel. And certainly not because being underground in a crowded subway car taunted my claustrophobia. Oh...wait...no...those are the exact reasons I hate public transportation.

Why did I agree to let my sister borrow my car, I lamented. I should end our relationship. If she truly cared about me, she would never cause me such agony.

I managed to find a seat betwixt an elderly man in a brown jacket and a very handsome gentleman. The former peered at me over his tiny lenses before returning to reading his paper. The gentleman to the other side of me paid no mind to me whatsoever, continuing to type away on his tablet. He was a handsome shade of chestnut brown, his full lips accentuated by a sharp and well-groomed goatee. Even more intoxicating was the scent of his cologne, reminiscent of musk and marriage, as I took my seat. It gently called out to me like an old school cartoon where the freshly-baked pie in the window grows hands that flow out and causing an unsuspecting character to levitate and float toward it. I glanced down at his hand, as was my custom being chronically single. "Dammit!" I screamed in my head at the blaring, yellow gold ring on his finger. Oh well, I thought, at least I can enjoy the ride a little better in his company.

My relief was short-lived. Galumphing through the doors at the next stop was a creature that stood about five-foot eight and three-hundred pounds at minimum. Beads of sweat adorned his wrinkled forehead, as if a crown. To add to it, he looked sticky. At least no seats were available near me. I'd occupied the last one. But to my utter disgust, the creature, whom I'd privately nicknamed Grimace, took up residence directly in front of me, grabbing the ring above my head and exposing me to his sweat-stained pits. As if his unpleasant aesthetics weren't enough, he wreaked of onions. I'd lost all trace of handsome-guys's scent as it was replaced with Grimace's.

I could feel my chest tightening as a panic attack ensued. It became life-threateningly hot and I became short of breath as we continued through a tunnel. The lights went out as I began frantically searching my purse for my inhaler. As I scoured in the abyss, something wet dropped on the back of my hand. Upon the lights' return, I discovered a droplet.

"No, no, no, no, no," I pleaded to an imaginary source. Looking up, I swear everything became slow motion. I watched in horror as one of Grimace's sweat beads descended from his drenched forehead and onto my wrist. Practically ejecting myself from my seat, I made my way to the door and exited three stops prematurely. I'll pay extra and endure the anxiety of the crazy cab drivers, taking two puffs of my inhaler as I hurriedly exited the subway car.