Escalatorophobia

Among the zillion gazillion fears we all happen to have, I chose to be scared of escalators. In fact, scared would be an understatement, I’m terrified. Now, you must be wondering why on earth would someone be scared of those. Never have been able to find the answer to this puzzle though.

While talking to my mom, I mentioned that I am scared of escalators and she says “Oh, don’t you know, your grandma is scared of those too” and she goes on to say it’s probably hereditary. Hereditary??? Well never knew such oddities were passed on as well from generation to generation.

To begin with, I never had to use one of these and the very first time I really had to, was at the airport. I looked around frantically for the stairs or atleast the elevator but no, did not seem to find either. The two girls traveling with me were so confused and had absolutely no clue as to what I was trying to do. I managed to mumble to them about me being terrified of these monsters and I can swear they would not have stopped laughing had it not been that we were already late for our flight.

Have you noticed how I try not to use the word “escalator”? The very mention of this word to me is something like saying “Lord Voldermort” instead of “You Know Who” or “He Who Must Not Be Named” from the Harry Potter series. It’s like my senses go numb and my feet refuse help me walk as soon as I set my eyes on them.

Well, coming back to my story, the girls decided to make me get onto the first step but I wouldn't budge an inch. Come to think of it, it really is just one step. Then, one girl held my hand and made me get onto the first moving step and I immediately felt as if I was being pulled away into this vortex of empty space. I turned around to see if I had once last chance to escape from the clutches of this machine. The other girl was right behind me and was like – “You will not fall off, just stay where you are”. Much to my horror, it dawned on me that I still had to get off it and thought that now I was doomed. I started to panic again, but how I managed to get off it, is something that I would not want to revisit. The next airport - same scene; I try to escape and they hold me and put me back on it. This continued at each airport till we finally reached our destination.

After this ordeal no matter what the situation was, I decided not to use them. I managed to avoid them successfully, until my visit to Philadelphia. My friend, a couple of other guys and me decided to go to the temple so we went to the train station and bought our tickets. Well so far so good but then guess what, I saw that I had to take the escalator to get to the platform and all my deep buried and dormant fears came rushing at me and once again began my quest for alternatives. When I told them about it, those poor guys decided to walk up the stairs with me but one of them had hurt his leg playing, and was limping quite bad but still climbed up the stairs and I am pretty sure till date he must have not stopped cursing me for making him walk so many stairs and would not be willing to be anywhere around me again especially if I have to get onto an escalator.

My first incident, the one at the airport was four long years ago. What do you think I do today? Will let my friends or may be even my grandma answer that question. Until then I will make myself blissfully happy thinking it’s all hereditary.