Mass Transit and the Flippling Cold: The Rodent Connection
from Monday 29 December 2003
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
The Author recollects from yesterday's wait on the freezing cold train platform for the Los Angeles Green Line to Redondo Beach:
If the wind was any faster, there would have been no problem, really: we'd all have been dead in three seconds of hypothermia.
Wilmington Station was like some monsterously ill-conceived junior high science fair experiment fancied up by a slow kid with a convalescent sadistic streak. I can just see it, a brood of bewildered and angst-shot gerbils huddled together on a formica strip and moated by two sluggish streams of liquid nitrogen.
The intercession of this kid's doting uncle, a senescent Senator with his hands all over the mass-transit swag, explains the stunned-penguin expressions I witnessed at the Station today. This is an open-air platform sandwiched by eight lanes of mean-on bull highway. The normally studiously neutral expressions of entraining Angelenos recorded a collective refound astonishment at the presence of actual weather in Southern California.
If the wind was any faster, there would have been no problem, really: we'd all have been dead in three seconds of hypothermia.
Wilmington Station was like some monsterously ill-conceived junior high science fair experiment fancied up by a slow kid with a convalescent sadistic streak. I can just see it, a brood of bewildered and angst-shot gerbils huddled together on a formica strip and moated by two sluggish streams of liquid nitrogen.
The intercession of this kid's doting uncle, a senescent Senator with his hands all over the mass-transit swag, explains the stunned-penguin expressions I witnessed at the Station today. This is an open-air platform sandwiched by eight lanes of mean-on bull highway. The normally studiously neutral expressions of entraining Angelenos recorded a collective refound astonishment at the presence of actual weather in Southern California.