I offered up a few anecdotes from 1975 in prior postings (namely here), but this one deserves one all of its own. There is no way I can be certain that this actually occurred in 1975, but I would imagine I was not much older than three or possibly four when it happened. I well-remember shopping at the downtown Rikes department store in Dayton, formerly on the corner of Second and Main. I loved to browse the toys, records, and View-Master slides. In that day and age, there were seldom any worries about leaving me alone for a few minutes to peruse the merchandise.
I also recall that I enjoyed escalators. Like all kids, I liked to run up the down-escalator, and run down the up-escalator. I thought it was cool that when you reached the top, the moving steps would flatten out and bring you to the level ground. It was with gleeful trepidation that I would reach the top or bottom, because I would have to make the transition from the moving parts to the stationary floor without stumbling or getting my toes caught in the crack.
One day at the department store, I was playing around the up-escalator when my parents weren’t around (they probably just turned their backs for a minute), when my jacket became caught in the black rubbery handrail. I was latched nice and tight and couldn’t get loose. Being so little, the handrail simply pulled me right along with it – and I began to travel up the rail, mounted on it as if I was sliding up a bannister.
I became frightened – and not for all the reasons you might think. It wasn’t a sense of panic or confusion – and the prospect of cracking my head on the floor or falling off the side didn’t even occur to me. I was simply petrified of being sucked into the little hole that the handrail goes into at the top of the escalator. You know how the rail kind of curves downward as you exit and then travels back down inside the side of the escalator? That’s where I thought I was headed.
By the time I had travelled up about 75% of the escalator, a good Samaritan helped me get loose. I told him thanks. Just then my parents re-appeared and the kind stranger told them of my plight. I don’t remember if I was crying or not – but I will be ever-grateful to the stranger who saved me from being sucked into the escalator rail hole.
The photo above has nothing to do with this story, but it was taken in the Summer of 1975…at the Cincinnati Zoo. Pictures and memories both are very scarce from this time period.
Leave a Reply