New York: What Gives?

How did it get to be so late in the day? One minute it was like 930, and now it's after 330. What the shit? Oh, I know why the day has been a blur: because I'm taking medicine. And whenever I take medicine, my mind is jumpier than Billy Pilgrim's. It's kind of like when you're having a dream and you're about to nail your attractive coworker and you're just like "THIS IS AWESOME" but then BLAMMO you're suddenly riding a neon whale into a giant whirlpool that smells like the men's room at the Greyhound station. Actually, it's exactly like that. The point is, I'm on medicine because on Monday I was in New York. For some reason, whenever I go to New York City, I get sick. This isn't some paranoid, hypochondriacalized notion. It's a fucking fact. Water is wet, sandwiches are made with bread, I get sick whenever I go to New York City...these are facts. They're just the way things are. The point is, knowing about this "New York sickness" thing, I must say that when I go to New York I can usually at least accept the notion that I'm going to get sick, because I know that I'll be there for a couple of days and will thus probably end up drinking the water (which is a bad idea in any city, except maybe Ottawa, for reasons too numerous to go into here). But this time, it's different. You see, I wasn't even in New York for a full fucking day. I wasn't even there for half a day. I took the train up on Monday, ate lunch, did some shit that needed doing, drank a Guinness at a bar in Times Square, and took the train home that night. And I still got sick. That, my friends, is what we call a bullshit turn of events. Seriously New York: what the fuck? I'm no fascist, so far be it from me to advocate sanitation squads roaming the city, hosing down random pedestrians in antibacterial foam while also spraying Febreze on the sidewalks and buildings...but at this point, I'm not sure how else to curb the problem. I'm going to just go ahead and say it: I'm not going to New York anymore. The Big Apple's had numerous chances to NOT infect me with germs, and it's failed every time. Nope, the next time I'm faced with the prospect of going to New York, I'm going to fake an ankle injury and lock myself in my basement. I'll be lonely, but I'll be able to breathe through my nose. And that's what counts.