Revolving Credit

I love revolving doors.

There's no guilt, for one. You're not expected to hold open a revolving door for anyone. Also takes away the guesswork over whether the person behind you is close enough---or worthy enough---for whom to hold the door.

I was only an occasional, once-in-a-blue-moon user of revolving doors until February, when I started my new job located in the Guardian Building downtown. Now, I'm a multiple-times-per-day revolving door user.

It's also the only door that is even remotely fun---and dangerous.

The latter part of that sentence first: the day I was hired, I brought our teenage daughter with me when I drove downtown to pick up my parking card. I neglected to tell her that only one person should enter a revolving door at a time.


She tried to squeeze in with daddy, except that daddy was already halfway into the building, thanks to the Guardian's brisk-moving revolving door. That left daughter perilously squished between the door flap and the interior of the door's cylindrical vestibule.

I felt awful; it had never occurred to me that she wouldn't know the one-per-use rule. But why would she? She'd used a revolving door even more infrequently than I had.

As for the "fun factor," with a brisk-moving revolving door you can play a little game with yourself---trying to determine which pie wedge of door to use as your mode of entrance or exit, for timing is everything. Enter a revolving door too soon or too late and you risk looking all Chevy Chase-ish.

But mostly I like knowing I'm never rude. No one can ever accuse you of racing to a revolving door before they can get there, because one-tenth of a second later, there's another pie wedge of door to use!

Of course, you have to remember to disengage yourself from a revolving door once you've reached your destination. That's some embarrassment, too---ending right back where you started.

But it's a fun door to use. Potentially deadly, but that's part of what makes it fun.


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