Real Californians
I got to the BART station this morning. I suppose it was a little chilly or something, because all the Real Californians were huddled in their jackets, like pigeons who tuck their heads into the bodies during the cold days of the winter, trying to stay warm while they scratch for food.
I thought it was invigorating, and not nearly as cold as the air conditioning on the bus in warmer days, when I have to pull the sweatshirt from my backpack that I carry for just such occasions, and for visiting the machine room, which we keep cooled with ferocity.
I suppose some of these folks came over from Oakland, and were still bracing themselves from the chillier air found over the mountain from Walnut Creek.
