Mia: Shaken Not Stirred

The true life stories of a NYC female.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

Cotton, Tears, and Oppression

A massive crowd had just exited from the elevator practically running over the next cargo of passengers over trying to get out. It didn't take long to find out the reason for the stampede. The stench in the elevator bitch smacked us; the odor washed over us in palpable waves. Holy monkey it was bad. People instinctively covered their noses forcing them to breathe through their mouths. The problem with that was the smell was so bad it actually had a taste to it. I dubbed the flavor “1000 unwashed sweaty asses in a hot subway car." Look for it I’m sure it’ll be available in your local 99 cent store any day now. My friend gave voice to what we were all thinking…

-Oh man Mia it stinks in here.

Several people inhaled the stench and offered their opinion as to what it could possibly be. As for me I slowly turned around scanning the elevator for signs of the rotting corpse I was certain was propped up some where. Negative on the corpse, affirmative on the over powering stench of unwashed ass.

-WTF is that smell?

Before I could even think the words were out of my mouth…

-Smells like cotton, tears, and oppression

For a brief second there was a stunned silence and then people started laughing. My friend turned to look at me…

- What the hell was that Mia? Cotton, tears, and oppression?!
I shrugged my shoulders…

-Hey I dunno somethings I can’t explain. It’s the first thing that popped into my head when the smell hit me.

-Yeah but cotton, tears, and opression? WTF?

- Yeah cotton as in the cotton shirt of a hardworking man drenched in sweat living pay check to pay check and barely keeping his head above water, barely making it. Tears as in the tears of a woman frustrated because her life is hard and hasn’t turned out the way she expected it. Oppression as in people feeling like they are stuck in life because of who they are, where they come from. Feeling like they're being held back. They all rode this elevator at one time or another and some of their despair poured out here marking the air.

From somewhere back in the elevator someone spoke...
-Oh man that shit is deep girl

I shrugged my shoulders again.

- Deep is the only way I know how to roll .

The elevator stopped on our floor we stepped off and as the elevator doors closed I heard someone saying “smells like cotton, tears, and oppression! That female is a philospher!" Several people laughed and as the elevator took off I smiled and shook my head. Yeah laugh all you want you're still in there breathing it in while I'm out here thanking the powers that be for the fresh air. My mind like certain religious icons works in mysterious ways. Sometimes I think things and say them out loud and they only seem to make sense to me. I hate when that happens. Welcome to the strange mind of Mia.

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Posted by @ 1:57 AM
4 comment from: Blogger christina/ohio, Blogger Mia, Anonymous darla, Blogger Mia,