After a very patriotic day of consumerism, I walked back to the T station near Kendall/MIT. Then, it hit me: The unmistakable smell of Corn Muffin. I looked around. Was a homeless man holding out not the usual coffee mug or outstretched palm, but a crumby, warm, just-baked corn muffin slathered in honey? Had I snuck one into my pants, to eat later as a mid-day snack, and now my pockets were full of yellow bits? Were the very Green residents of Cambridge now using cornmeal as their alterna-fuel du jour? But no. I looked up, and saw this:
Billowing clouds poured from this building's smoke-stacks, giving the surrounding atmosphere an inescapable scent of Corn Muffin. Thank you, Industrial Revolution. If Marlboro could invent a tobacco with such euphoric fumes, I'd inhale a pack a day.
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