My friend Matt went on a rant over the weekend.
“Do you realize how dangerous revolving doors are?” he began, with big popping eyes, concerned eyebrows, and a thick foamstache on his upper lip from the cappuccino he was sipping. “I mean, I’m surprised they’re actually left unguarded in public. Don’t you think it’s a miracle more limbs aren’t lost in those things? Crack, there goes your ankle in the doorjam. Smack, there goes your face against that unrelenting wall of glass.”
He nodded his head in little bobs while staring at the napkin dispenser deep in thought.
“I honestly think I might stop using them altogether…while I still can.”
I flashed him a thin, understanding smile while silently worrying he was becoming a bit too paranoid. What’s next, I wondered – boycotting shoelaces, avoiding escalators, carrying a pocket thermometer to dip into drinks before sipping?
Because let’s be honest. Revolving doors are part of life: they came, they’re here, they ain’t going anywhere, you know? Sure, using them safely is important. But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy them. After all, it’s pretty sweet coasting through one of them… especially when you don’t have to push:
1. Catching a draft. Someone’s in front of you so their pushing gets the door moving. Just watch out, though — since they leave the door before you, it’ll generally slow down fast before you get out. But be patient and let the door turn slowly, friend. You’ll make it.
2. The Invisible Force. Here’s where nobody’s around but the door is spinning like mad. Clearly some beefy strongman just whipped it into a frenzy while rushing to catch the bus or something. This spinning beauty sort of resembles that big wheel on The Price is Right whenever a guy from the army sent it flying. Careful getting in and then enjoy the speedy ride.
3. The Self-Starter. This one’s like The Invisible Force, except the slow speed and deep whirring noise tells you the door’s running from a power source. Deeply unsatisfying.
4. Sharing the pie. This is Matt’s worst nightmare. Here’s where you squeeze into the door right behind one of your friends. While they push you try to awkwardly speedwalk so the door doesn’t clip your heels.
Going through a revolving door without having the push feels like catching the rhythm of the universe. Entering, exiting, it doesn’t matter — nope, you just rode the wave of life without crashing into mess of bloody foreheads and shattered wrists.
AWESOME!