Did I just hear that right?

The scene: 7:28 am. Grand Ave. Station. Two Blue Line trains going in opposite directions. I’m on the Northbound train (of course).

Heard on the outside loudspeakers, so all the world can enjoy it:

My driver (female) “Oooh, you so luckyyyy!”

The other train driver (male): “That’s not luck, baby. That’s skill.”

I have no idea what they were talking about, and I think I’m glad.

Why do I even try sometimes?

I’m not at all superstitious. I don’t really believe in karma. Or in curses. But I have to say that it's hard not to have a bit of a complex about trying to leave work early on a Friday afternoon when I’ve a Monday - or in this case a Monday and Tuesday - off. When I try to do this, something happens to the Blue Line. Every time. Sometimes it’s extra slow for mechanical problems. Sometimes there’s an accident. Sometimes they have emergency track maintenance. It’s always something. It's always slow and crowded. And it happened again. I promise that I have not found religion... though I may start planning for train suckiness in these situations in the future.

Roundup:

Seen on the Blue Line recently: a baby duck. It’s a zoo on here.

Overheard yesterday on the Blue Line:

Young Latino skateboarder number 1 (after a long, long silence): “I think I’m going to be a Navy Seal.”

Young Latino skateboarder number 2 (without blinking or looking up): “My ass.”

Silence again.

Seen today on Long Beach Transit, Line 111: a middle-aged, skinny gay dude, with no teeth, black fingernail polish, a Laguna Beach tee-shirt from the 1980s, all topped off with a beautifully embroidered ivory-white yarmulke. We get all kinds in the LBC.

Are we sure it's over? I think we are.

This is hard to describe. I - like many others I’m sure - feel like I’ve singlehandedly willed Obama to victory in the primary. Hoping against hope. Railing against the status quo. Parsing every speech. Wondering when we would be able get out of the Bush-induced quagmire. I’m wrung out.

Let’s look at tonight:

The speeches didn’t compare. Obama killed. Just fucking killed. Right now, you’re either happy beyond measure that he’s the nominee, or you wish your candidate were anywhere near as inspiring and on top of things as he is.

McCain’s speech was a disaster. Uninspiring, devoid of new ideas or real change. It was painful to watch. He looked like a ventriloquist’s dummy. That green screen? Not good. Abysmal.

HRC was better. In fact, she was much better than McCain. Much better. She could beat him going away. But she’s crazy. She confirmed this - in case we didn’t already know - by embracing that non-real reality for all the world to see. And she’s trying to use her supporters to leverage a high-level spot in an Obama government. This none-too-hidden beggary for the VP slot is pathetic and unworthy of someone who would call herself President or Vice-President.

Obama sounded like himself, sounded like the man that could lead the nation out of the dark forest, the man with the plan. Only he’s refined his words and sentiments to a razor-sharp precision unseen since the 1800s. He has mastered that balance between soaring, inspiring rhetoric and biting, substantial policy that can make a speech spear itself into your mind and punch its way into your gut. He’s ready for the general. He can taste the work. He’s eager to kick ass and take McCain’s name. Only one name? No problem.

Some are worried about Democratic part unity. P’shaw. We’re not trying to unify something old, to make some kind of frankenstein monster - that might lose - out of the pieces of the old politics. We’re trying to create something new. Unification will happen naturally with a new coalition, a new electoral energy. The contrast with McCain... well, I already went there.

I am floored; I am moved. I am excited; I am hopeful. If I feel these things this strongly now, how am I going to feel in November, when Obama becomes the President of the United States America?