This is a Journal entry by Mr. Cogito

Penn Station

Post 1

Mr. Cogito

I'm going home for a few days for Thanksgiving, the annual American holiday of eating and pretending we all get along. Much as I joke about it, it is not bad as far as holidays go. Although it's become a bit like Valentine's Day for many people; it really sucks if you're alone. Thankfully, I'm not alone for either holiday.

New York's Pennsylvania Station (named confusingly after the old Pennsylvania Railroad) is always a nightmare, and I am not looking forward to it this time. Even worse, Amtrak still doesn't have the Acela service running, so that our trains can approach something like what they've had for the last 30 years in Europe (ah, European train service. Maybe a good article there). Of course, it's still loads more convenient to take Amtrak for short distances than flying (an article about Amtrak might work as well).

The station itself has all the charms of a bus terminal. New York used to have a beautiful Penn Station, but that was demolished to erect Madison Square Garden. Maybe with all the acclaim for the renovated Grand Central Station (it is nice) and DC's Union Station, there will be an effort to make a better station, but I don't think we'll see something like the Temple of Travel that the old station was. An entry about "Forgotten New York" might make for some interesting reading.

As Eddie Izzard says, we Americans demolish our past, and think that something 50 years old is ancient history (his delivery is much funnier). Too true, especially here in New York. Of course, it's more interesting how we attempt to retrofit the past. For instance, my apartment building used to be a tenement with no internal bathrooms. Now it has electricity and bathrooms, but the old quirks remain. The odd dimensions, the dearth of electrical outlets, the 50 year old phone switch, and the fact that there seem to no right angles in the entire place. It can be somewhat frustrating and time, and sometimes you feel like "character" is just real estate slang for "grime", but that's one of the sacrifices of living in this city.


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Penn Station

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