I was on the L.A. Red Line yesterday, in transit from Union Station to Universal. The train was crowded and filthy, something fairly common since mid-pandemic. At Westlake, a tired, older woman in a once-frilly indigenous dress, maybe Salvadoran, slowly pushed her cart onto the train. A younger man with a bicycle didn't make it on before the doors closed, as they shut right behind her.
A vendor guy inside the train, his shirt covered in a necklace of chargers, was suddenly at the door. He nonchalantly tugged the emergency door release and slid the door open, letting the bicycle guy onto the train. He then shut the door and pushed the emergency handle back into place.
The train continued on its way, as if nothing unusual had occurred. The vendor kept moving, not even a glance at the guy he'd just helped out.
"Anybody need chargers, speakers, pepper spray, tasers" he said in a monotone as he proceeded through the car, bored.
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