On Escalator Etiquette: Life Lessons When Things Go Very Wrong

Escalators are, for the most part, narrow little beasts made of grinding metal with gnashing teeth and unseen gears. They are at once ferocious — my mother had a lifelong fear and would go to extremes to avoid riding one — and yet so very accommodating to the masses. In major cities with subway systems they are the primary mode for descending deep into the bowels of the earth and, when your journey is completed, returning to the open air above. In places like San Francisco they seem to be forever in a state of disrepair; forcing subway riders to seek out elevators (also usually broken) or to accelerate their heart rate on a set of never-ending stairs. If you ride escalators regularly in the US you know the etiquette — stand to the right, pass on the left, don’t shove others, try not to fall, and above all else, don’t urinate while riding one.

True, it’s a shame to have to put that last bit of escalator etiquette in writing.

It was early December, approximately 5:30 pm, and I had just exited a BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) train at Powell Street; one of the busiest stations in San Francisco. Throngs of holiday shoppers and commuters packed the platform and we moved like one continuous blob toward the narrow entrance that took us onto an up escalator. Owing to my Parkinson’s and a fear of tripping and falling, I tend to hold back a bit and wait until the majority of people have cleared before taking that first tenuous step onto a moving escalator. As someone famous once said — the first step is a doozy.

On that particular day the crowds were so dense that I just took a deep breath and plunged on and upward. As we started to ascend, a person in front of me made a quick dart to the left and, in doing so, opened up a couple of extra spaces between me and the man just ahead on the escalator. I liked the extra space and felt no need to close in. It was a long ride — the Powell Street BART trains run deep underground — and I was going to take the time to plan my strategy for navigating the shopping mall above. Suddenly, and this is where it got quite surreal, I heard screaming coming from the people in front of the man who was in front of me.

“Oh my god,” someone yelled.

“Gross,” another one offered.

“Jesus Christ, what the …” a third voice said with a combination of utter despair and utter acceptance to life in SF.

And then it hit me — thankfully not literally — that the man in front of me had unzipped his pants, pulled out his penis, and was letting a stream of urine flow over the ascending steps. As the golden liquid splashed against the metal, the throngs of people in front of him began to run up the escalator as if they were being chased by a knife-wielding maniac. The woman in back of me said softly, “Is he really doing what I think he’s doing?” Although I am not a mind reader, I knew she and I had come to the same realization: As much as we wanted to get out of there, we were trapped. We couldn’t move backwards (there were too many people behind us, all clutching themselves in horror) and to try and pass him would only ensure certain dousing. For a brief moment I did consider jumping off the side of the escalator, until I remembered that my super hero days were long gone.

And so for what seemed like an eternity — it was probably another 15 seconds — I stood there, repulsed, while the man in front of me pissed all over the escalator, then quickly zipped up, and walked off into the brisk SF night. Strange thoughts went through my head, like “will this rust the gears?” and “could this cause an electrical fire?”I never did get a good look at his face; although I could tell from his body language that he was somewhere in his late 20’s/early 30’s, obviously inebriated and, even if he wasn’t incapacitated by booze, would most likely have still stopped to piss anywhere he wanted.

When stuff like this happens to me, or around me as the case may be, I try and learn something from it; find take-away life lessons. Beyond the obvious — be gracious about when and where you evacuate your bladder — these are my thoughts so far:

1. Bad things/gross things can happen anywhere.

2. Always leave space between the people in front of you (and behind you if possible) on an escalator… or a staircase, or an elevator, or the sidewalk, etc. etc.

3. Know your emergency exit plan in advance.

4. If the person next to you appears to be intoxicated — give them extra space. Note: The person next to you could have Parkinson’s Disease and only appear to be intoxicated, so be kind.

5. Carry some bleach wipes in case you get splashed by an unpleasant liquid.

6. Know when to run and when to take cover.

7. It’s never the wrong time to have a Scotch on the rocks — make that a double — after you experience an escalator pisser.

Fast forward two days later where I found myself in the charming — seriously charming — Santa Barbara airport. I had flown down for work meetings and was traveling light, a backpack with a change of clothes and my laptop. I exited the gate area and came to a series of steps that led down to the main level of the airport; they were wide, void of other travelers and, as fate would have it, situated next to an up escalator. As I began my descent on the stairs I noticed an older woman step onto the ascending escalator from below; her roller bag, her purse, and another small carry on all carefully balanced. Or so it appeared.

Suddenly, I saw her topple backwards and in an instant she looked like a broken mannequin; lying supine on the still moving escalator, her right leg splayed across her left leg, her arms reaching up as if they were trying desperately to grab onto someone or something for help, her head and neck pulled backward as they dangled over the edge of a still expanding cold metal step. Without thinking, I tossed my backpack off, ran to the bottom of the stairs, and jumped onto the moving escalator so I could reach her. Instinctively I grabbed her head, trying to keep it from bending back further and to prevent her hair from getting caught in the grinding metal of the steps.

I started screaming to anyone who was near, “Shut it off! Shut it off!”

A TSA agent, looking stunned and a bit unsure, appeared at the top of the escalator. “Hit the off button,” I yelled, and at the last possible second before the woman’s still folded legs would have become crumpled at the top of the escalator, he hit the emergency break and the whole contraption came to a sudden and jolting stop. It felt like one of those movies where the clock on a ticking bomb is at 3–2–1 …

I continued to hold the woman’s head up and encouraged her to be still until other help arrived. She asked about her cell phone that was now in the debris field with her other personal possessions; I assured her it was fine. As more TSA agents arrived I was relieved of my duties and I eventually retreated back into my normal life. Before I left her, she said “thank you” to me and I started to say something like, “Take care of yourself now. And have a nice …” but I never finished the sentence because I couldn’t think of another word for “trip” and the people with clip boards were anxious to start filling out their reports.

I’ve often wondered what I would do — how I would respond — if I found myself in a crisis situation where seconds mattered and there was no time to ponder what action was best. Would I be able to act, to do the right thing, or would I remain frozen?

Now I know. With the pisser, I remained frozen. With the falling lady, I discovered that maybe my “super hero” days were not quite over.

It’s been nearly three months since my escalator adventures (how many people can say that?!) and during that time I’ve added a few more life lessons to my list:

8. There are no free and effortless rides in life.

9. The forces that can pull you up can also easily bring you down.

10. In life, we all need to step lightly and cautiously … and hold on.

11. Mother was right, escalators can be dangerous.

12. It’s never the wrong time to have a Scotch on the rocks — make that a double — after you experience someone fall on an escalator.

In the meantime, I’m taking the stairs.