Hickory Smoked Métro?
I'm not sure if you're familiar with the Montréal Métro System, but there are a lot of smells in it...
...of course there's your standard smelly people, B-O, B-O-My-GOD, urine, generic cheap-ass drug-store counter perfume, eau-de-toilet (and I'm NOT talking the perfume variety here people) burning rubber and doritos.
There's one other smell you get allot as well and for some unknown reason that's the smell of a fire. Not a "run for your life, the metro train is on fire" type smell, but the "crackling, chalet, marshmallow toasty, chestnuts roasting over an open fire" type smell. And there's NEVER any smoke to explain and show the way.
To me at least, it's one of life's great mysteries, more compelling than the Caramilk Secret. And this morning on the commute to the office I could smell it all the way from Berri to Cremazie...
What the hell people? Are there C.H.U.D. living down there, in some long forgotten Métro tunnels roasting unaware Métro travellers for their dinner?
And why is there never any smoke? I know they say "Where there's smoke, there's fire", but what about when there's no smoke? Is it accepted that I can say "Where's there's the smell of smoke, there's fire"?!
I'm open to suggestions and explanations to the burning wood smell... it remains a mystery to me...
Anyone?
Anyone?
Bueller?
...of course there's your standard smelly people, B-O, B-O-My-GOD, urine, generic cheap-ass drug-store counter perfume, eau-de-toilet (and I'm NOT talking the perfume variety here people) burning rubber and doritos.
There's one other smell you get allot as well and for some unknown reason that's the smell of a fire. Not a "run for your life, the metro train is on fire" type smell, but the "crackling, chalet, marshmallow toasty, chestnuts roasting over an open fire" type smell. And there's NEVER any smoke to explain and show the way.
To me at least, it's one of life's great mysteries, more compelling than the Caramilk Secret. And this morning on the commute to the office I could smell it all the way from Berri to Cremazie...
What the hell people? Are there C.H.U.D. living down there, in some long forgotten Métro tunnels roasting unaware Métro travellers for their dinner?
And why is there never any smoke? I know they say "Where there's smoke, there's fire", but what about when there's no smoke? Is it accepted that I can say "Where's there's the smell of smoke, there's fire"?!
I'm open to suggestions and explanations to the burning wood smell... it remains a mystery to me...
Anyone?
Anyone?
Bueller?
16 comments:
Could it be that you are just smellin' yerself cuz you're a smokin' hot gay guy ??
oh I already disqualified myself.. I'm more Mesquite than Hickory ...
I'd love to help but I stopped taking the metro several years ago when some dude grabbed by boobs on his way out.
It even took a few minutes for my brain to register what had happened.
Maybe its just people passing gas and the smell gets compressed because of the underground tunnel thing. However, my boobs are fine -thanks for asking.
:-9 I've never been groped in the Métro, but I guess there's still hope...
I was stunned more than anything.
After that I bought myself a car.
Hmmmmmmmmm that musta been quite a grope!
What's so darn mysterious about Caramilk, anyway? They obviously make it upside down. End of story.
bah bah mr Jerome Black Sheep... that's what they WANT you to believe!
It was quite a grope, enough to make me spend thousands on some wheels.
Plus, I detest sweaty, smelly people who manage to always sit next to me during those sweltering summer months.
to come back to the subject...
couldn't it be when they apply their brakes that you get that smell, while you wait for your own train to arrive???
:)~
thay would more explain the burning rubber smell, but have you never smelt the wood fire smell? I'm talking full on campfire, toasty warm bonfire smell... I know the Métro needs some updating but I'm not sure the breaks are made of wood...... at least I hope not! :-)
Smoke smell = you're thinkin' too hard on the metro.
COME ON, BE A BRAINLESS COMMUTER SHEEPLE!!
p.s. My word verification is:
JUGS st...HAHAHAHAHAHA
St. Jugs. The patron saint of hooters.
Isn't that St Dolly?
You mean there's a better chance of getting groped on public transit than in your own car? Where the hell is my bus pass???
sell the car Bobby and take the train... imagine the possibilities!
There's no secret. They make the chocolate molds, insert the caramel pieces (which are made separately and frozen to keep their shape until they're in the bar,) then add the back layer of chocolate.
And Maria, I haven't been groped yet on the subway, but I've had men pee in my direction (on purpose) twice in Toronto and am right there with you. I SO wish I had a car.
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