Sunday, February 11, 2007

All Aboard for the Dark History Tour! Step right this way.

Well, I must say that this weekend has been quite eventful. Probably the best thing about it (and it took up the most time) was the fact that my dad and I got to go on a field trip. We joined up with the CPP Geo Club for a walking tour of Downtown Los Angeles, and it was a pretty good experience for me. Shot about 60 photos, got in a lot of exercise (along with some great Persian Kebabs from the Grand Central Market) and a lot of railfanning action as well (we took the Metrolink from Claremont to Union Station, saw the Santa Fe and Pacific Electric Buildings, etc.) And I say "Dark History Tour" because I got to learn a ton of stuff about the darker side of L.A.'s "history". Like the fact that the inconvenient parts have been covered up with tastier tidbits stolen from other histories, and how the L.A. Times used to be the real guns in town... it was cool, made me think critically quite a bit, and I always like that. And plus, I'd always wanted to do a tour of my own urban backyard! (I know, I'm from Long Beach, but L.A. is the county seat.) ANYHOO... I hadn't been on a real train in a considerable while... 3 years to be exact (Portland's metro doesnt count as a "train" in my book, it's "light train/rail"), and stepping on a train for me is quite an experience for me. Here, then, is a poem about it. Written on Metrolink #366, coming back from L.A.

"That First Step"
by Neil Mullins

I stood out on the platform, one day,
My eyes brimming with anticipation
And a sight so simple, so bold, a train
Filled me with inspiration.

Yet I was also afraid
To embark upon this moving mass
That moved on steel rails laid,
Those tracks like sinewy long ribbons of silver glass.

To where would I go? And to when?
To places and times, far-off and untold,
Over mountains and rivers, and through fields,
My gaze glued to the window as steel wheels rolled.

The conductor took me out of my thoughts as he snapped,
"Climb aboard so we can leave, son"
And as my foot to aluminum steps tapped,
I knew that first step... was where I'd won.

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