for detroiters, exploring michigan central station is a rite of passage. more a question of when than if. after a productive discussion about economic development and tree-planting along jefferson ave, i stepped outside to inhale the damp, autumnal air. tonight's the night, i thought. i hurried home, changed into stealth attire, and set out to pick up my partner in crime.
**the ghost of mcs. courtesy of nicole rork, june 6, 2006.**
we parked a few blocks away and approached the enormous building with awe and anticipation. residual rain drops fell against scrap metal and stone, heightening our sense of unearthly abandonment. from inside, the main floor looked more like a shipwreck than a waiting room.
as we ascended, the scenery changed. sometimes ugly, sometimes stunning. city lights cast a heavenly glow through broken glass. stepping onto a balcony level with "save the depot," i had the fleeting sensation i was in a very strange production of romeo & juliet.
the rooftop, however, was the night's triumph. comfortably chilly, the mood changed from shakespeare to spiderman. only a superhero could know how it felt. to be trespassing 18 stories above street level, sidestepping unruly vegetation to take in a sleeping city.
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