I have a large russian man's frigging stomach jutting into the side of my head right now and I feel sick because his "cologne" smells like something died... his wife is sitting next to me in the middle of a 3 seater. no. I am not getting up. they were late to the train. now I have to smell the borscht belt to my right and listen to svetlana on my left yapping at him...
you betcha, I got some photos of his belly peeking out of his shirt while his big pants "area" loomed over my shoulder.
luckily they moved after secaucus otherwise they would've had a little more to worry about than the kgb
(yeah I know the kgb is a memory now but I wanted to sound threatening)
::: plunked in on my treO:::
