GlossyVeneer

I have a real aversion to revolving doorways. You know, the turnstile type doorways where you are inside and shuffling around in a circle to enter or exit a building. I also dislike those counting turnstile things found at amusement parks (or giant homes built in California by publishing billionaires).It’s the strangest thing, I can think of no logical reason for my dislike of these things.

As a child I set-up a corner in the back of my closet with a flashlight and a pillow where I would go to read. This was a very tiny space and I enjoyed squeezing myself into the corner. So I’m not claustrophobic, it’s not a fear of confined spaces.

Maybe it’s a sub-conscious fear of being trapped. Of course, that fear should probably be linked to dressing rooms for me as opposed to revolving doors. I’ve been trapped in store changing rooms on two separate occasions. Trust me, it’s pretty embarrassing to have the lock break when you go into the room and a store employee has to get a tool set out to remove the door so you can rejoin your family. It’s even weirder when it happens on another occasion at a different store. Kind of makes one wonder if they are jinxed.

When I went to Salt Lake City last month to visit some relatives, we went to a building that had a big revolving door. There were regular doors on either side that said they were to only be used by people in wheelchairs. So I stood there at the doors, staring at them. Mentally my hands were moving back and forth, like the kids on the playground do before running into the spinning jump rope. Finally I took a deep breath and practically ran through the doors.

When it came time to leave I approached the doors apprehensively. My adorable younger brother walked over to me, took me by the elbow, lead me to the “handicapped” doors and escorted me through. Not a word said by either of us, just his gentle motion expressed such love and kindness.

He’s going to make such an awesome father. Two more months until their baby is born. I can’t wait!