|The old wooden escalator at Macy's still clacking away|
Well, it seemed like a reasonable thing to do at the time.
And looking back over fifty years I very much admire my maybe five, maybe six, possibly seven year old self for thinking oh what the hell, why not.
Which is why I made a running dash up the Macy's down escalator. And I think I would have made it to the top if my father hadn't dashed after me and tackled me down and dragged me off.
There was damage to assess. Not me. I was fine. Pissed I hadn't experienced my own personal Coney Island ride right there in the middle of Macy's.
No. The damage was much more serious than my disappointment. My father, the kind of dandy one becomes when you can finally afford nice clothes after abject poverty, was furious. The pants of his suit, a very nice one thank you, had gotten ripped on the moving steps.
And getting them carefully rewoven cost mightily and I did not hear the end of it for years. Especially when we went shopping at Macy's.
My adulthood budget didn't allow for buying much new. So my visits to Macy's were far and few between. But recently with gift certificates and wedding money, new towels beckoned.
And so did my old adventure...
So tempting, so tempting....
Sunday Memories: Visiting Santa
In His California the Time Is Now