Escalators and My Dad

This morning, as I was leaving Penn Station to walk to work, something happened that made me think of my dad and smile.

At the 34th Street exit there are usually three working escalators and one very long and steep staircase. Two of the escalators usually go in the direction of rush hour and the other in the opposite direction.

This morning, one of the escalators was broken so there was only one going up instead of two. Consequently, there was a line to enter the escalator that went back about 40 feet.

Having been raised by my dad, it would never occur to me, even on a normal day, to take a crowded escalator when I could walk up the stairs quickly. On a day like today, when one had to wait almost a minute to even get on the escalator, it would have been blasphamas to take the escalator. As I ascended the stairs, I was thinking that I just don't get the mindset of people who would rather wait on line for a crowded escalator than climb a few steps and get out quickly. I know it's a mishugas, but that's how I am.

When I got to the top, I smiled because I know my dad would have been thinking the same thing. Until his late 70's my dad was very physically fit and young for his age. He walked miles a day and swam at least three times a week. He hated waiting on lines. He was always in a hurry to get where he was going. And, he was the type who thought that escalators were for the old and weak.

I am so much like him in this respect, it is scary.