The Sydney Saga: Wooden Escalators

June 18th

"I just... I just need some fruit, I think."

We're under the awning of the fruit market, shielded from the downpour, watching as miniature torrents rush past, filling the gutters.
It's at this point I've concluded it's unlikely my feet will ever be dry again. There are undoubtedly worse things.

Lucas is coming to get us -- ah, the novelty of a car! -- and then off to Govinda's for an all-you-can-eat vegetarian feed/movie combo.
After filling our bellies with heavenly, warm food ("I didn't even miss the meat," Chris was later to comment), we go upstairs for the film. Instead of seats, there are cushions and pillows. Shoes are kicked off -- as well as sopping socks, in my case -- and everyone settles into extreme lounging mode.
So smart, such bliss.

***

One of the train stations, I'm fairly certain it's Museum, has a wooden escalator. Even the little raised bits to dissuade people from sliding down the middle are made of wood.

Wooden escalators trump metal ones exponentially to the power of four.


[This assertion is swayed to some degree by the image of Michael Palin of Monty Python sitting on a park bench, dressed as a Scotsman.
He stands and, in response to nothing in particular, says, "Well, em, that's very interesting because I am made entirely of wood."

Several episodes later, same scene, only this time upon standing he says, "Well, that's very interesting because I am now made entirely of tin."

Even writing that out tickles me.
See? To the power of four.
Mathematically sound.

Subjectivity's a funny thing, isn't it?]