Oh, the lovely aroma of death and feces that wafts up from the underbelly of Midtown Sacramento.
Thousands of people's poo and pee swimming along an integrated system of channels underfoot.
How I love when I am riding my bike on a hot summer's day, and I find myself jerking my head back in repulse as I ride past a manhole and your stench burns off my delicate nose hairs. My eyes water, not in delight - not in longing - not in sorrow, but in pain. Sheer pain from the stench of the amassed pee and poo particles floating through the air like a ballerina, dancing to the music of a thousand urine streams hitting the rim of a toilet.
Alas, countless memories have been created at Tres Hermanas, Tuli Bistro, Ernesto's, Yogurt a Go Go, and other Midtown eateries -- only to be fermented by bodily secretions, turned into excrement, and flushed away into infinity to continue the circle of life. Cue Elton John.
