I was catching the subway with my girlfriend. We got on the escalator and I noticed the left side was completely open, so I suggested we walk down instead of standing. She agreed… until about three-quarters down, when she sighed and asked why I was “in such a rush.”
My girlfriend has two modes when analyzing my movement:
- I’m “in a rush,” or
- I’m “impatient.”
If I walk on an escalator, I’m in a rush. If I walk faster than the crowd, I’m impatient. Somehow my legs have become a personality flaw.
Let me address this:
First, sometimes I am in a rush. And what’s wrong with that? I like getting to my office early before class. Walking could be the difference between catching the subway or waiting 5–7 minutes. Five to seven minutes is the difference between “I’m prepared for this lesson” and “well, I guess I won’t print these worksheets.”
Second, I’m not rushing. I just don’t like losing momentum. I move like a rolling suitcase on smooth airport tile — once I’m going, I’m going.
And third, I’m not impatient. I just dislike being trapped in a human traffic jam for no reason other than collective tiny-leg syndrome.
I once timed my steps next to someone after my girlfriend brought up my pace. My steps were slower but longer. I walked past him without speeding up. That’s not impatience. That’s geometry. I’m not saying other people are slow. I’m saying other people have baby strides. Why do I have to shrink myself to match your preschool pacing?
Anyway, I wasn’t rushing. Sure, I’d prefer to catch the subway before it leaves. Who wouldn’t? But I’m not sprinting down polished metal stairs to do it. That is a broken ankle waiting to happen.
And yet I see people do exactly that — casually standing, then suddenly Usain Bolt-ing down the escalator because the train whistle blew. If you’re willing to run down moving stairs, why not just… walk steadily from the start? Somehow that chaotic dash is acceptable, but I’m the problem because I maintained a normal pace from step one? Make it make sense.
I don’t walk because I think everyone should. The point of an escalator is to rest your joints. Treat it like a moving couch. I just treat escalators like a hike: if I’ve already started walking, I don’t feel like stopping. Objects in motion stay in motion. Newton wrote that about me, specifically.
And I don’t think I’m better than you for walking. I’m not silently judging your stationary existence. Just… don’t judge me for moving. I promise there’s no message behind it.
However.
If I choose the stairs instead of a crowded escalator?
Yes. I do mean something by it.
If you’re comfortable wedging your torso between thirty strangers like socks in a washing machine, that’s your business. But I will feel superior climbing the stairs beside you like a fitness-themed Greek god.
I am 38 years old and can take 17 floors without sounding like a depressed vacuum cleaner. I will absolutely enjoy moving faster in a race you did not sign up for. And if the escalator breaks and you get stuck in a human cattle chute? I will regret nothing. Na-na na-na boo-boo… I’m too tired to rhyme anything with boo-boo.
So if you catch me taking the stairs while you wait shoulder-to-shoulder on robot steps?
Call me dramatic. Tease me. Whisper, “Who does he think he is?”
Easy answer:
I think I’m better than being packed in like spam.
Tiny-ass legs.
Meninity 