Taking the Green Line train from the Westgate Station to downtown Minneapolis on Monday — I had a six-hour $3 senior/Medicare/youth pass, which apparently would have covered me even if I went back in time — meant I would get another long look at the new Vikings stadium, U.S. Bank Stadium. The train makes a Downtown East, or a stadium, stop.

If it wasn’t for the train, I would not have watched the progress of the stadium, but the train is convenient for me three or four times a year to ride from Westgate to wherever I have to go in downtown Minneapolis. I do not think it was worth a billion dollars to have this convenience provided for me, but I see no need to spite myself for a measly $3 for six hours. Surface lots around Target Field charge obscene amounts of money against that three bucks. My only regret, as it has been on every trip I’ve made, is that nobody ever asks to see my ticket.

I gazed at the stadium for a couple of minutes, paying particular attention to the surrounding areas. Didn’t see any dead birds and have noted that dead bird talk seems to have abated considerably. Related Articles Soucheray: New to politics, low on cash, no help from the party, John Stromenger makes a run nonetheless

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That stadium gives off a dark vibe. Sheathed in black. Knife-edged. Towering.

Ugly.

No, ugly is too quick to the keyboard. Not charming. That’s it. It is not charming. It looks like a hangar for the bat-winged flying machines of evil alien forces. It was supposed to resemble a Viking ship, I thought, but the only vessel shape that comes to mind is a bloated Noah’s Ark, and I am sure the architects and the Wilfs didn’t imagine that.

And as much as I understand that football is not a charming game and hasn’t been since leather helmets, TCF Bank Stadium, for example, is charming. It is open and airy and favors the traditional horseshoe shape. It incorporates various nods to the entire state of Minnesota, a tip of the cap to all 87 Minnesota counties, even the goofy-sounding ones like Koochiching and Yellow Medicine. It’s that open end that distinguishes TCF Bank. Most football stadiums owe their lineage to the Roman Coliseum, but open ends soften them a bit and the absence of a roof softens them a lot.

Now, in fairness to the new stadium, I have not taken any of the media tours. It might very well be stunning once inside, very cutting edge, but there are those descriptors again, cutting and edge. It’s too razor-blade crisp and seems to say that, yes, a violent game will be played in these confines. Our own Julio Ojeda-Zapata reported the other day that the customers can access an app on their phone that will guide them to their seats, to nourishment, to beverage and probably tell their fortune, too. All of professional sports will be making a strong push to engage the customers with technology that will allow them to have their own instant replay at their seat, much less an app on their phone.

But this place says nothing about Minnesota. This monstrosity could be anywhere, including the surface of Mars. I guess this is what you get when you get an out-of-town guy to hornswoggle us out of a billion dollars.

Well, there is no accounting for taste, and for all I know, this big black alien air machine hangar will open to rave reviews. I’m not an architecture critic. I just know what gives me the creeps.

It’s just that as I sat there on the train, it felt otherworldly to gaze upon it and not come up with a thought other than we didn’t need this, or this is what you get when you build one too many new stadiums.

Could be just a foul mood brought about by all the losing we are enduring right now, a limp hockey team that backed into the playoffs, a hapless baseball team off to its worst start in franchise history, a basketball team that always intends to win next year.

And now this place, a temple of something. I hope not doom.