The Girlfriend and I got home late last night and as we were getting ready for bed I asked her, “Why do I keep smelling syrup? It smells like waffles . . . and syrup.”
She had actually fallen asleep by the time I was done with the sentence, but I was positive that I was smelling syrup. I checked my own bottle of syrup in my refrigerator to make sure it didn’t spill. It was intact. The smell was, for once, not coming from my refrigerator.
Then I wake up this morning to Pat “the Man” Kiernan on NY1 actually reporting that many New York residents called in reports (?) of smelling maple syrup all across the city last night. I don’t know exactly how you go about calling in a report of smelling maple syrup, at least not without coming across as a major jackass. I mean, do you call 9-1-1?
Operator: “9-1-1 operator, what is your emergency?”
Crazed citizen: “IT SMELLS LIKE SYRUP! LIKE FUCKING MAPLE SYRUP!”
Operator: “Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down. Tell me what your emergency is.”
Crazed citizen: “WHERE IS IT COMING FROM?! I CAN’T STAND IT! IT’S LIKE FUCKING WAFFLES, FUCKING EGGO WAFFLES AND SYRUP!”
In any event, they still have no idea where the smell was coming from; but this was a citywide phenomenon. From Brooklyn Heights to Harlem, people claiming to smell syrup or a caramel latte or burnt sugar, raising the obvious question, “Why not just say syrup? You just have to be different?”
I can only hope that it’s not some sort of new terrorist technique whereby mercenary forces unleash a pungent yet pleasant odor across the city causing panic and alarm, jamming up the 3-1-1 line and, worst of all, forcing us all to wake up the next day to a city that no longer smells like confections but instead it’s usual urinal/car exhaust musk. This plus the impending day light savings clock change will have us depressed to the point of submission.
I fear what might smell might come next – Patchouli? Vanilla? A good red sauce? Oh the horror . . .