the sweet smell of vulnerability (I)
… and if we WERE safe, then we’d know where the bizarre maple syrup smell came from the other night.
The city was suffused with the smell of maple syrup. One colleague said she smelled it in the movie theater, thought someone had sweets with them, still smelled it afterward and turned to her friend who’d been with her in the movie and said “Is it you?!?”
The city was suffused with the smell of maple syrup and 3 days later no one knows what the hell it was. Yes, fine, the DEP and the cops and the coast guard all sprang into action after the phone calls poured in that night, but no one knows what it was — just that apparently the air tests found nothing harmful.
That’s good news, but it’s hardly the point.
Fine. Fine, I’m jumpy and just complaining about something that can’t really be helped. You can’t filter the wide open air.
New Yorkers, of course, responded with the kooky, jumpy, gritty humor that has bolstered us since after the first anthrax scare.
But a part of me wonders if we’ll be wisecracking even after we’re cut off, quarantined or vaporized.
Though I suppose I wouldn’t rather leave town any other way.