an Open Letter to Smokey Josephine

I’m really glad you took such a fervent interest in my knitting, while on the bus the other day. It was really nice to hear how your grandmother had taught you to knit when you were a girl and that seeing me work on my fingerless glove just took you right back in time; I really love hearing stories like that (and you’d be surprised how often I do have people tap me on the shoulder to chat about my knitting). You might be wondering why I gave you a simple ‘hello’ this morning, when I sat down next to you (in the only available aisle seat). It’s not because I wasn’t feeling chatty (I mean I wasn’t, but that’s just because I’m ridiculously anti-social before 7 am); it’s your breath…it’s awful.


It’s an absolute pity ‘cuz, with the exception of your utterly fetid-abandoned New Jersey abattoir in summertime-breath, the conversation was perfectly delightful! At first I thought it was simply the odor of Fresh Kills, but after a few minutes it dawned on me that the landfill had been closed since 2001. You’re clearly a lifelong smoker (as evidenced by your Brenda Vaccaro meets Kathleen Turner voice) and until I spoke to you, I would’ve guessed that cigarettes were your coffin nail of choice. See, I’d never gotten as close to you as I did that day; we’d only spoken across the aisle to each other, since you usually ride in with a “bus buddy” that you talk with. After speaking with you for fifteen minutes, though, I’d bet good money that you smoke cigars; cheap, old, disgusting cigars, usually reserved for rolling blunts (like White Owls or Phillys). I had a teacher in high school who smoked White Owls and his breath practically peeled the industrial paint off the walls; yours is, regrettably, worse. I have a feeling that somewhere in between stogies you also nosh on sardines (maybe anchovies) and drink alot of coffee; that’s the only explanation I can come up with (that doesn’t include some kind of cancer, parasite or zombie putrification).

Now, I know this seems harsh and maybe more than a little bit judgmental, but I’m gay: I’m constantly judging everyone around me; all the time. Kidding! This isn’t the 1st letter I’ve written about strange smellin’ folks on our bus. It’s not meant as a criticism, so much as a gentle nudge towards bettering yourself and making the ride pleasant for everyone around you (we all know how I feel about that).

Besides, at a quarter after 6, it’s kinda hard to offer someone a stick of gum, no matter how much they need it…