There are no eggs in heaven

Ok, so I know I'm in the minority, but there really isn't anything I like about eggs. I hate the way they look—over easy has runny yolks that look like puss, hardboiled ones fill your teeth with gross yellow bits that make me want to vomit and disown you as an amigo, and deviled eggs are just that, the spawn of the devil. Seriously, I am getting nauseous just thinking about them. In spite of my dislike for them, I understand that most citizens do in fact love eating a good egg and I can deal with it while I’m at a restaurant, but not randomly throughout my day.

This morning started like any other, with me freezing my ass off as I walked to the subway. After braving the six blocks, which felt like 60 in the cold, I desperately jumped onto a train knowing it would absolutely be warmer inside. What I failed to account for was the stupid girl who felt that inside a hermetically sealed tube would be the perfect place to scarf down a hardboiled egg.

First off all, eating on the subway in general is repugnant. Would you go to a hobo’s home and sit down for a meal? I think not. Secondly, there is little to no air circulation inside the A-train so your pungent breakfast reeks throughout the car and does a little dance inside my nostrils where the egg-vapors basically shit all over my septum.

After escaping at 175th street I walked to the bus that I take over the bridge every day. I boarded just in time and sat towards the back. Once I finally settled in to my seat an odd feeling washed over me. “what is that?” I thought to myself, “did someone fart?” the answer is no—they were eating a freaking Egg McMuffin! This infuriated me because there is clearly a sign at the front of the bus that says, “No Eating” and this dude was just two rows behind the driver, so I know she smelled that rankness along with the rest of the passengers and clearly approved of its presence, in fact, she probably stopped for one on the way home.

The reason this incident truly infuriated me was because a few months ago I was boarding the bus, carrying an iced coffee that I had been craving all morning. I was even planning on waiting till I got to my office to savor it, really enjoy the whole thing, down to the last drop. When I hopped on to the bus to pay the driver I had a spring in my step, a spring that only comes from the knowledge that you are about to embark on the caffeine train! And wouldn’t you know it, the driver says to me, “no drinks!” Huh? I see people getting on with drinks all the time, I think to myself. “But I’m not going to drink it, sir,” I say ever so politely to the driver. “No drinks,” he rudely replies. So I am forced to throw away my perfectly good (and untouched) Venti coffee and compelled to hide my coffee every single day since.

Yes, I hide coffee every day. I palm the cup in my left hand and shift that side of my body away from the driver as I board, handing them my ticket with the right. It’s frustrating to engage in this dance every day. “What if today’s the day they make me throw it out again?” I always wonder. So you have to understand my ire when I go to the extreme lengths to mask a odorless coffee and there’s a guy housing an Egg McMuffin in plain sight (and smell!) of the driver. Again, I must remind him that a bus is relatively self-contained when it comes to odor and his breakfast is causing me lose mine.

Now look, I am not telling America to stop selling egg products, all I am asking, begging, instructing is that they not be eaten in my vicinity. If you do me this favor, I promise, I will owe you one. I will mow your lawn, I will walk your dog, I will promise not to passive aggressively hit you with my coat or bag when you are eating what is in essence a defective baby.