This is Gremmie reporting from NYC, home to the NEW Gremmie International Headquarters.
Before I begin on the merits of escalator etiquette, I want to give a huge thanks to Matt Ammerman, aka Goof for helping me out this past weekend moving to Battery Park City. Only a true gremmie would brave the frozen winds and stacked cars of a weekend move that made for one 20 hour day and a whole lotta hell. So Goof, I thank you dear friend - I also owe you one brother.
This morning I took the 4 from Fulton St to Grand Central. At 8:15 a.m. the place is a Zoo. A real live fucking zoo of crazy misfits and slick investment bankers all going the wrong way and not going anywhere at all. The escalators that lead to Grand Central’s main concourse are slow - not like glue running down a wall slow, more like sap taking 5 years to fall from a tree slow. As typical etiquette for escalators is concerned, of the two lanes of one standard size escalator, the right lane people, or right-laners, remain still - they don’t move because they’re too lazy to walk. You can also find these people blocking your path on the conveyor belts in airports when - again - they should be walking but have chosen to exclusively piss you off instead. But that’s fine. The left lane is the movers and shakers lane. This is the progress lane. This is lane where the evolved species goes to use their escalators. Like eating with a fork and knife instead of your feet and anus. If you’re a left-laner, you don’t stop or slow down, you keep walking until you reach the top and can pridefully claim victory having just expeditiously climbed a dirty, slow as sap, escalator in New York’s premier train hub.
This morning, amidst the rush, I took route to the left lane as per usual and found myself moving at a snails pace quickened only by the good graces of other left-laners in cahoots with myself to reach the top as quickly as possible. The escalator is only 20 yards - not terribly long. Not like those ones in Barcelona to Gaudi’s house or anything. So as I reach the halfway point, the lady in front of me stops. Nothing. Just stops. She didn’t say “Ouch I broke my ankle.” she just stopped. Had I been only a C-Hair away from the top I wouldn’t have minded so much, but as I was 10 yards away I started giving her a mischievous stare - as if I were going to barrel through her and leave her for dead all while laughing maniaclly. With each passing second the crowd behind me grew more tense as they were all left-laners looking to make the ride as short as possible. The lady in front of me never bothered to turn around and say sorry and didn’t even offer us reparations for our 15 seconds of agonzing suffering. After what seemed like an hour, I reached the top and scuttled past her, nearly taking a entire family.
In retrospect, because it was my first day of commuting to work from home I decided not to kick her legs out and step on her would-be broken body; as if my ostensible kindness were an offering to the Karmic Gods of the Subway. Well I hope the good will of this deed holds out, the bitch won’t be so lucky next time. Please gremmies, if you’re a left-laner, BE a left-laner don’t stop midway. Don’t sway to the right. Keep moving.