I hate puke

I was riding home from a happy hour in DC with a buddy of mine. The usual metro related talk ensued: metro is annoying especially in the summer time with tourists, work is annoying and it would be better to play golf all day or sit on the beach and drink beer, football is the only sport in America that matters. The train stopped at Pentagon City, and an elderly gentleman stumbled on the train. We had started to debate whether the blue line was better than the orange line, when the old dude bumped past us. He mumbled something that I can only assume was an apology. Either that or a Gypsy curse. As he sat down in the handicapped section, I noticed that he looked positively ill, and smelled like alcohol. The train ride continued without incident for three stops, when the head of the drunken guy started lulling to one side of his head. About five seconds later, he leaned forward and booted all over the empty spot in front of him. The smell and sight of puke is enough to make me queasy, but this wasn't your normal, commute home puke. This was geriatric, too much red wine vomit. Just the nastiest crimson substance ever. An escape route was needed STAT. At the next stop, it was nothing short of a stampede for the door. Another ride home on the metro met with appalling disgust...