by Betty Gordon
Fear wrapped around my heart splintering into tremulous fingers that danced along my spine. It took all my courage to step on the menacing metallic jaw of transportation, a moving stairway to journey’s end. I planted one foot on the escalator followed by a second one while grasping the hard rubber support.
The escalator returned me to a large pyramid in Mexico where my fear was born. I was one of two people who foolishly climbed the pyramid in the midst of a thunderstorm against advice of a tour guide. By the time we reached the top, lightning crackled around our feet. We clung together for comfort. One thing was certain, we had to get the hell off the top of the pyramid and down to terra firm—not an easy task. By the time we sidestepped our way to the pyramid’s base, there were no heels on my shoes and I was left with formidable fears of heights that later transferred to escalators.
In spite of anxiety created by the Mexican monument and the ascending stairway I had now managed to get on, a smile flooded my face when a youngster pushed by me, jumped forward, and stood calmly with long blue jeans covering his shoes.
What a lure he offered this metallic beast. How easy it would be for blue jean threads to fall prey to its moving parts, but happily this didn’t happen. He unknowingly defeated this monster and as I stepped off, so did I.