For some reason, when Sound Transit created its new light rail stations, it didn't think to give passengers an option to take the stairs.
I wrote this whole thing about how often the UW station's escalators broke down. You remember. In the span of a year, the escalators broke down for a total of 19,289 hours. They broke down enough that Sound Transit threw up its hands and said something like, "Okay, I guess it's time to invent an alternative." They cooked up a foolproof plan: a stationary escalator, otherwise known as stairs. They would never break down!
The UW station's stairs opened at the end of March. I took them for the first time in June. Let me take you on my journey.
It was a nice day. I was wearing a dress. Look good feel good, right? Both applied to me. Today would be the day I took the stairs to the light rail. This choice was spurred on by two things:
1) My options were limited.
2) Since I couldn't see when any trains were leaving, I was free to stroll. Ignorance is bliss, after all!
The open doors to Stair 5 beckoned.
They yawned open.
The hallway was cavernous. It seemed to stretch with each footfall. I hesitated and looked back.
Would I be the same on the other side?
There was no one else taking the stairs. I took the first step down cautiously. So this is what trendsetting was like.
I jotted down some notes:
I also took an accidental action shot of myself. Please enjoy.
What do you think this yellow thing is?
Here are my feet (will any of you pay me for feet pics?), please enjoy the Sambas I just bought (this is not an ad) in the height of my reignited soccer frenzy. I had these in elementary school when I wanted to only wear boy clothes and play sports. Third grade was weird for me.
Finally, I made it. This was the last landing before the promised land:
I grew up in the San Fernando Valley in California. To get to the beach, you had to go through Topanga Canyon, a road that wound itself into and out of the earth. When I was little, this route felt endless. Time didn't exist in Topanga Canyon because every curve was the same. My mom hosted a little competition between me and my brother: "Who can see the ocean first?" The only land marker I remembered besides the store that sold railroad ties (what even are railroad ties?) was a pole with a statue of a flying pig on it. I knew that when I saw that pig I would see the ocean on the next turn.
I felt this same energy when I descended the last flight of stairs.
Look! They even had a security guard watching out for me! I wanted him to greet me and to ask how my experience on the stairs was. He did no such thing. I greeted the light rail like an old friend. We exchanged knowing looks, not words.
Then, I sat and waited for 15 minutes because I had missed two trains while walking down the stairs. This was because of my slow pace. It is no fault of the stairs. I love them dearly. However, I will not be taking them the other direction. Who has the calves for that?
