More than a decade ago, while I was visiting Prague in what was then still Czechoslovakia, I was thrilled to find escalators that whisked people along at speeds at least twice as fast as those found in the U.S. Shooting up from the depths of the subway system, I always visualized riders being launched into the air at the top, like human cannonballs. That’s my kind of escalator.
Of course, high speed escalators don’t fly in safety-conscious (and litigious) America. Nor are they found in Japan. But other mechanized dangers do lurk in the land of the rising sun.
Take automatic sliding doors and elevator doors. In this country, the former petulantly refuse to open until you’ve come full stop about two inches from the door. The latter, on the other hand, should be nicknamed the “jaws of death.”
No elevator I’ve ever ridden on here has had an electric eye to stop the closing of the doors if a person steps between them. So the only thing stopping the doors once they’ve started closing is a warm body (or, if you’re lucky, a quick button-pusher who’s already made it safely inside).
Automatic sliding doors are a danger of another sort. There’s no walking into a building without breaking your pace, no Starship Enterprise “whooosh” as a door slides quickly open. It’s more like a border crossing where you have to stop and show your passport. I remember an incident in Japan when my family (including my grandparents) visited in 1981. My grandfather walked right into a glass door, mashing his nose in the process. Whether it was because he expected it to open or because he didn’t see the door I don’t remember. But I think of that incident every time I find my nose bushing against a door that should have opened five seconds earlier. I’ve taken to waving my hand in front of me in an effort to trigger the door just a moment earlier, which must make me look slightly batty—another crazy foreigner.
