I’m late even as the red line Metro speeds ahead during the morning rush hour.
Getting off the train, passengers spill out the doors and onto the platform. They merge from every direction, moving toward the first set of escalators. It’s a well-choreographed dance, left, center, center, right. Climb or stand in place. I slow as someone steps in front of me. A bag lightly grazes my arm.
At the top, the crowd forms quickly at the turnstiles. The line moves quickly. The tap pad flashes green. Thunk—a passenger’s oversized purse and lunch box hit its arm. Cleared. I glance at my watch. 9:13. Plenty of time.
Through the turnstile, I lengthen my stride and hurry towards the second set of escalators. I start to round the corner. The escalator dance has stopped. I stretch my body, my brows furrowed. My phone chirps at me, 9:15 am, the meeting reminder.
On the escalator, I go right. A passenger looks over his shoulder before stepping to his left. He begins climbing the stairs but stops. He shifts his bag to his other hand, grabbing the railing. His fingernails tapping time. Another passenger walks up behind him, stops, and leans over the railing. Soon there is a line of passengers standing on both sides of the escalator. The escalator continues its slow crawl.
Arriving near the top, I notice a woman pushing a large baby stroller off the escalator. She pushes down on the stroller handle to lift the front wheels over the stair lip. But the basket on the bottom hangs low, filled with blankets and bags. It’s stuck. She lifts the stroller. She has to move fast; the escalator stairs don’t stop for anyone.
As she pushes the stroller off the escalator, she glances behind her at the left side moving again.
I step off and see a second woman with a stroller. She waves and calls out her friend’s name. Her smile is contagious as the woman exiting the escalator bends down, rearranges the bags below, and smiles back. She laughs. As she reaches her friend, they exchange a few words before going right, walking side by side.
The pedestrian signal flashes green and begins counting down. They nonchalantly push the strollers through the busy crosswalk. The crowd converges around them.
I need to get to my meeting. I turn left. It’s 9:20 am.
Four hours later, I am still thinking about them, wondering if, alone, I would have taken the elevator.