Scenes From A Train

I haven’t been on the train in quite a while and what a day to pick. The temps are in the 90s which means a lot of skin that you might not want to see (girl, seriously, a tank top) and the wonderful smell of heat and sweat.

Southern Californians are a weird bunch. When I first moved here it was in October and in the 80s. And people were wearing fleece?! Of course I was fresh from Chicago so I wore shorts for the first six months. But here, just on the walk to the train I saw the gamut of folks wearing shorts and T-shirts ( and some looked real good ) to others wearing sweaters and jean jackets. It’s 93 degrees according to my iPhone. But often here it’s about fashion, it is after all LA.

But no, as I look around me this is not fashion. Is it laziness? Because after all it’s only 90 for a few hours on a Spring day like today, so did they start out early and won’t return to late, so they dressed for the spectrum of temperature? Are they hiding things under those coats, or maybe they just need the pockets to carry all manner of essential articles? No, most have backpacks and purses too.

So what is it? If you’re born here or have lived here for 20 years, is your blood so thin that 90 degrees is not hot? No one looks homeless to substantiate that being all they own on their backs. There must be something deeper.

Wait, I got it! They’re protesting global warming. They will not accept 90 degrees while it’s snowing in Minnesota. This is a movement, a stand. These brave souls are sacrificing their comfort to show their feelings, to show that they’ve had it. That corporate America and the companies that pollute the air have gone too far. And it will not be tolerated.

Oh wait. The guy with the most clothes on just pulled a burrito out of his pocket, ate it and threw the wrapper on the floor. My theory is kaput.

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