I was getting ready for work in our kitchen, either brushing my teeth, putting leave-in conditioner in my hair, or just staring absently while barely awake into the mirror, wondering if anything could be done to make myself look cuter before I headed off to work. It was during this time that I heard a pop from my bedroom. I assumed something had fallen off a shelf since our apartment is a little slanted and I was in no hurry to attend to it, would pick up whatever fell before I left the house. Having realized that there was no more that could be done to make myself look more presentable, I was about to head out the door, already running late for work, and looked around my bedroom to pick up the book or vase that had fallen on the floor. I didn't see anything on the floor and became very confused about what the noise I heard was, what it could have been.
I began to smell a weird odor, something vaguely chemical, some type of gas. I began to wonder if some pipe transporting dangerous gas had ruptured and if I would soon be dead from the smell. Apocalyptic thoughts at 6:30 in the morning, proving that is never too early in the day for your fears of death and destruction to start spinning their detailed fantasies.
I noticed the smell though soon enough and wondered what could have happened that I was smelling poppers. I opened my underwear drawer, home of lube, cock rings, condoms, a Fleshjack, and poppers, to see if the smell was coming from there. I saw a bottle of poppers, felt it, and saw that it was perfectly fine, that it was not leaking, that this was not the source of the smell. My eyes finally landed on the culprit though, seeing the blown off cap of an old bottle that I had forgotten about in the back of my drawer. There were shards of glass everywhere, the smell was overwhelming, chaos and destruction to start off my day.
I didn't have time to clean up the mess, knew it would be awaiting me when I arrived home from work, this mess. I have never heard of such a thing, of a bottle of poppers exploding. I have Googled some keywords and have been able to find no other instances or references to this phenomenon.
The day continued in a fashion befitting its explosive start. There was explosive diarrhea for most of the day, the sickness that had been in my throat the past two days moving its way through my digestive system. And then there was a brief encounter with a co-worker at work in which we played with each other's cocks.
I left work and took the train down to Union Square. The increasingly annoying Occupy Wall Street people were again there, making it very difficult to get around this park that I pass through all the time and that I enjoy when it's not filled with these loud people who would disrupt your ability to enjoy the ability to sit and daydream in a public space with their frenzied sloganeering. Equally disruptive are the police and media they bring with them. I really wish they would move their show back to the financial district. They are making it increasingly hard for me to sympathize with them by continually disrupting such a utilized public space. I don't think this move uptown is a well thought-out move and I think it is going to unfortuantley sway more public sentiment against this movement. Anyway, it was a surreal scene though when dizzy and hazy with sickness to have to maneuver through crowds of protestors and masses of police trying to corral them when all I wanted to do was buy some Advil and Listerine at Duane Reade. I was inside strolling the aisles, looking at face creams. Other people were doing the same, picking up things, looking at things, purchasing things. We all were doing our New York thing that we self-identified New Yorkers like to do and ignoring the insane mass of people shouting outside these glass doors, ignoring it all. What celebrity? What homeless person? What revolution? We don't let these things stop us. We are never shocked or impressed. I did buy an impulse purchase of oil-absorbing facial sheets.
I came home and cleaned up the poppers explosion.