After reading this frightening post on Gowanus Lounge, I decided to do a mini-tour of my immediate neighborhood. If only the internet came scratch 'n' sniff-equipped. . . .
This is the cabbage factory. Day and night, there are guys working away in there, shredding thousands of heads of that stinky green vegetable. Once the cabbage is torn up into little bits, it goes into plastic bags, which are then loaded into boxes and up onto a pallet, which a forklift takes out to a truck.
I don't know if you've ever been in close proximity to a ton or so of cabbage, but it's like living within a giant fart cloud. Like the whole block has been dutch-ovened by some great big gassy jerk.
Because there's a certain amount of spillage during the processing, the cabbage is also responsible for an increase in the amount of furry black rodents skittering around the area. Last year, to combat the problem (which I imagine was way worse inside the building), the owners got two tiny little kittens. The kittens eventually grew into scrawny cats, but I haven't seen them in months. I'm betting the rats ate them.
A month or so ago, I saw on Property Shark that this property was for sale for 3.2 million bucks—but now the listing's disappeared and there's no record of a sale. This scares me even more than the cabbage bothers me because I know that whoever buys it will rip it down and in the process, most likely tear down half of my creaky little building next door in the process. I've seen the way Williamsburg developers work and it ain't pretty.
Speaking of incompetent developers with no regard for human life, the next stop on our stank-a-riffic tour is the Roebling Oil Field. . . .
This is the Roebling Oil Field, which will one day become the McCarren Park Mews. Before it came along, our biggest stank issues were the cabbage factory and the occasional whiff of freshly laid poo from the turd-processing plant located a couple miles off. Now, in addition to the eau d' coleslaw, there's a heavy petrochemical scent that permeates the air, causing eyes to water and tummies to churn.
When I first heard it was to be made into Mews, I (naturally) assumed it would be home to cute little ponies. Now I'm not so sure I'd want a pony living there. In fact, I think it would be pony abuse to pasture any living animal on such an obviously toxic site. I mean, this isn't some weird leak that you can't smell—you can even see the oil gurgling and, well, I already mentioned the smell.