Our eyes met on a Saturday evening in Los Angeles. I wanted to go home. He wanted to take me there.
Could we find our way to each other in this lonely city?
Sure, we were only 30 yards apart. But we were separated by Crenshaw Boulevard—and by the folly of transportation planning in 21st century Southern California.
The object of my gaze was the driver of a Metro train on the Expo Line, which runs from Santa Monica to downtown L.A., and is also known as the E Line. The driver’s features, …