Anyone mind if I play?

Theres nothing like it.

The smell of a city. Trudging up the long flight of steps, emerging blinking from the bowels of the earth, a smell like no other hits you. Its not the best smell, but its not the worst either. It isunique. And theres nothing else like it.

You dont really notice it at first. Youre too busy clearing the odor of too many people stuffed into a small metal tube out of your nose, the whispered conversations washing over you, the sound still fading after youve left the train. Then everyone else gets off the train and the hum of people talking continues out onto the platform, punctuated by the slap of running feet , the shouts and loud laughter of teenagers.

On the platform are hundreds of people, a hairy sea of heads. Occasionally the face of a tall person will break the surface for a moment and then disappear, never to be seen again. Some people look bored, some are hurried. Everyone can tell who the tourists are: a camera somewhere; slung around the neck or dangling from a wrist. Always looking at maps, or train schedules. Some have had it and do nothing but stare at the concrete wall across the tracks with a blank expression, mouth slightly open, head cocked to one side. Sometimes you get lucky and can see the silver string of drool dangling from the corner of their mouths.

Everyone heads for the exits in an orderly fashion, but order descends into chaos when everyone reaches the stairs. Civility is pushed aside along with everyone else as the mad crush begins for the right to be the first up the steps.

Shoulders pulled in close, head held high simply because there is no other choice, you shuffle up the steps. All the other people shuffle with you, because they also have no choice in the matter. You feel knees bump you from behind, the elbow of the person on your right damn near cracks one of your ribs, and the people in front always seem to want to stop while all the others in the rear push you so that your face almost ends up in some perfect strangers butt.

You still cant smell that city smell because the steps are like a wind tunnel. The air rushes down on you, bringing with it only the heat or cold from the streets above. It can never be warm on the steps of a subway. Its always either hot and muggy, or bitterly cold.

Then, the steps start to widen out, you can see the exit ahead of you, the corner of the building across the street, windows glittering. People passing by. The wind starts to die off as you get closer to the exit, and then it hits you. The smell of a city.

The most wonderful assortment of smells, an amalgam of heat, sweat, urine, food, coffee, car exhaust, burnt rubber, rotting garbage, hot pavement, fresh bread, and a thousand other things that you either cant identify or dont want to. The rush of cars, the conversations, hawkers outside of shops yelling at passerby, airplanes overhead, the sound of thousands of people moving, it all washes over you. No matter how many times youve done it before, it still takes a moment to take it all in.

Theres nothing like it.

Mike