You’ve reached the dreaded escalator, again. The train is waiting for

you upstairs and you are ready to go–or so you think. The same thing happens

every time: you lift your leg aiming for the next step…Wait! That one came way too

fast. You could have missed it, tumbled down the escalator, and broken every bone

in your body while knocking out a few old ladies on the way. Let’s try the next one.

Okay, ready? Go…Wait a minute! That one your other leg just wasn’t ready for. You

would’ve ended up doing your first split on a public escalator and that wouldn’t have

been pretty. For some reason it’s hard for you to let yourself surrender, to just dive in-

-all parts of you present and in sync. All of the signs are pointing you in that one

direction. Could it be that you are reading the signs incorrectly? Maybe your train is

on the other side of the station. You know that’s definitely possible. Signs can be

confusing at times, especially when the paint on the walls is chipped and fuzzy to the

point where you need to squint a little to read them. And if your train is not up there?

Then you would have to run all the way around to the other side of the station,

pushing through a crowd of children and leisurely walkers who aren’t about to miss

their trains. Or what if you actually get on the train and it takes you across three

states and in the middle of the ride a bunch of criminals hijack the train and just like

in the latest action film, you get to play the role of the poor innocent bystander, who

despite minding her own business gets shot anyway. You flash through each

possible scenario, one by one, until you’ve exhausted yourself. The internal rants

and the habit of worrying you inherited from your loving but over-protective parents

has left you high and dry, stripped of any energy you once had.

Until, one day, you’ve had enough. For some reason, those signs look like they’ve

been redone. You move towards the escalator. Your head feels a bit clearer, a bit

lighter. After a single blink, you find yourself halfway up the escalator. What’s the

worst that could happen?