By Kevin Salvador
I found myself waiting for the train, like I've always done; but this time I was a bit irritated because I've quit smoking cigarettes and I had a nicotine itch. The night sky had arrived. It had been raining that afternoon so everything glistened with water droplets and the air was chilly. As soon as I got on the train I regretted it. The heater was cranked to a hot 86 degrees.
I tried to remind myself that it was not so cold outside and so hot on that train -- that maybe I was just overreacting. I'm sure people in Alaska have it worse than this -- but why did it have to be so hot on the train? There's a homeless lady huddled up in the corner wrapped in a worn out Nike jacket. I forget about how hot it is. I found a seat near the back, where I was able to stretch out and gain some much-needed solitude,
As I sat there watching the various passengers loading and unloading themselves from the train, I couldn't help but think about that Alaskan tundra; about all them animals that survive up there in the frozen, barren cold. Sturdy creatures, living in a white abyss. Foxes; wolves wolverines and… polar bears?
Do they have polar bears up there?
Off the train now, I walk through Union Station to get to Patsaouras plaza where the LA chill welcomes me again. I've got it good.
A group of pigeons huddle together while I waited for the 733 to Santa Monica. Do pigeons migrate south when they get cold? If it really got cold, would they just take off? Would I?
Off the bus now, I'm dreading my apartment -- a small place filled with too many people, but at least it will be warm.
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