Whenever I get depressed about greater LA's pathetic car dependency, its environment-destroying minimum parking requirements or its walkability-eviscerating sprawl, I think about the Purple Line Extension, or as I prefer to call it, the Subway Towards the Sea (there isn't enough money to take it all the way to the sea). I don't think I'm the only one.
Someday, I don't know when, because it depends on whether or not the 30/10 loan passes, I will come out of the Westwood subway station. My life then may be unrecognizable to the person I am today. But I will see the office towers on Wilshire. I will walk to UCLA, jog up the hill to Royce Hall, Rocky Balboa style, in complete ecstasy, and I will reflect upon the amazing consummation that is this middle finger to car dependency, in the car's symbolic metropolis. Or should I say, former metropolis . . .
Yo Adrian, we did it!