I don’t ride the DC Metro system that often, maybe once every couple of months. But in the last two years, I’ve been in the same car as a drunk person that’s puked all over himself.
Last night was the third time. As I got up to leave, a young man, probably about college age, was leaning against the doors, clutching his jacket close to him. All down the front of him, on his jacket and shoes, and on the ground was whatever he had for dinner (it was something with carrots, that I know).
Something about me attracts habitual vomiters (vomiteers?).
Posted in Everyday Life