I saw something this AM that I had never witnessed before (note that I couldn't figure out what category to file this under, so I used travel, which makes a little sense):

Coming out of the 7 train in Grand Central Station, I approach the long escalator which travels the equivalent of 2 floors up to the main sub floor, which is below the Grand Station main floor. (For those of you unfamiliar with NYC and its environs, I take a suburban commuter train to Hunter's Point Station -- just outside of Manhattan -- and then transfer to a subway for a 2 stop, 5 minute commute into Manhattan).

As I approach the escaltor, I spot an older woman (aged 60-70), accompanied by a younger man (30-40) who may have been her son. They both looked Indian/Pakastani/Middle Eastern-ish to my ignorant, poorly traveled eye. She's wearing a white shawl, which was draped over her shoulders, and covered her head, but not her face. She was gingerly trying to step onto the escalator, but simply couldn't work up the nerve. She kept grabbing the moving handrail prematurely, pulling her off balance before she was ready to take that 1st step. (As this unfolded, the departing subway managed to crowd politely stepped around them).

There was something about this scene that was tender and compelling. I watched for about 30 seconds, and it dawned on me that this woman had probably never been on an escalator before. Not knowing whether an offer of assitance would help or be off-putting, I stepped around them, and walked up the escalator.

But this was fascinating to see.

Posted at 11:26 AM in Travel | Permalink

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