The Doorway Planter, or: Arrival Is Not a Destination
FIELD OBSERVATION No. 004 — STATUS: VERIFIED, LOGGED, REAR-ENDED
Ranger's log, 0748 hours. Positioned at the top of a station escalator for routine observation. Contact within ninety seconds: a male, mid-commute, rides the escalator to the very top, steps off onto solid ground, and stops. Completely. He has arrived. He's looking around like a man who just woke up on a beach. Behind him, the escalator, which does not stop, keeps delivering people into his back at a steady pace.
This is the Doorway Planter. To him, getting there isn't a transition. It's the end of the trip, and the end of the trip is the right moment to check his phone, adjust his bag, and consider which way north is.
The Subspecies
Years of field work have established three dominant variants:
1. The Summit Pauser
Native to escalators and the tops of stairs. He waits for the exact moment he clears the last step, the one spot where stopping causes the most trouble, and then he stops to get his bearings. Field researchers have noted that he never gets his bearings on the escalator, where he had forty-five seconds with nothing to do. Planning ahead is for other animals. He plans when he lands.
2. The Threshold Philosopher
Found in store entrances, office lobbies and any door that just let him in. He walks through and immediately stops in the doorway to look around, as if the inside of the building has never been explained to him. He is in. He is also still out. He's blocking both, and a line forms on each side. When someone says "excuse me," he looks up with the mild surprise of a man who didn't know other people existed.
3. The Subway Stair Mouth Breather
Found at the top of the stairs coming up from the subway. He comes up into daylight and stops dead at the top step to pull out his phone and decide which way to walk. A whole trainload of people comes up behind him and has to squeeze around. He doesn't notice any of it. He has two bars of signal and a map that hasn't loaded, and that's all he can deal with right now.
0811 hours. Subject from 0748 re-acquired at a coffee counter, standing directly in front of the pickup shelf while he reads the menu he already ordered from. Ranger morale: tested.
The Certified Truth
The Field Guide must now enter, under oath, the oldest rule of foot traffic, peer-reviewed by every human who has ever had to go somewhere:
When you arrive, keep walking three more steps. Then stop.
That's the whole rule. Three steps clears the doorway, the escalator, the stairs. Three steps turns a pile-up back into a stroll.
And now the uncomfortable part, the part this Guide always gets to: think about the last time you came out of the subway into a part of town you didn't know. Your phone came out. Your feet stopped. You were three steps short.
You were somebody's Field Observation No. 004.
Sighting verified. Coordinates logged. Move three steps up. There's room for everybody.