I was rushing to catch the 55 bus home from downtown yesterday evening when a man walking next to me ashed his cigarette. In a split second, two things occurred, the first being me opening my mouth, the second being me taking a big breath in. Before I had the chance to grasp what was going on, my throat was filled with a toxic smokey taste, as if I’d just taken a big whiff from the hot end of a tail pipe. It wasn’t until I was climbing onto the bus that I realized that I had inhaled the stranger’s cigarette ash.
For all of you that may never experience such a rare event, I would equate it to finding a pubic hair on the toilet seat of a public restroom. If the pubic hair then became, say, lodged in the back of your throat.
