Saturday, April 16, 2011

Riding Escalators

I grew up in the middle of nowhere.  No - seriously.  My parents owned 40 acres of woods off of a dirt country road that is off of another dirt road that is off of a paved side road that is off of a main road that leads to a two blinking light blip of a town.  


No public transportation, no city sewer systems and absolutely no escalators.  In fact, I was a teenager by the time I rode my first escalator. Well - riding wouldn’t be the correct term... I have vague memories of acting like a 5 year old and running up the down escalator while shrieking over my shoulder at my very embarrassed mother, “These stairs are MOVING! Mom! Mom! Mom! Moooooommmmmmm!!!!!!  Looooook at meeeeeee!!!”  

I’m surprised I don’t also have vague memories of being escorted off the premises. 
Since then I’ve moved halfway across the country and my daily commute now includes riding no less than 4 escalators and 6 elevators.  But... to tell you the truth? I miss the middle of nowhere.

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