A fortysomething woman in Montreal was killed this morning after her scarf got caught in the escalator at a train station. Holy fucking shit. An escalator strangled someone to death. I need to lie down.
Here’s what happened, according to the National Post,
“The woman’s scarf got caught in the escalator and then she bent down to try to get it out and her hair got stuck too,” Brabant said. “A bystander called 911 and by the time police arrived, she was declared dead.”
(faints)
Besides being tragic for that poor woman and her family (because oh my god that is the worst, most random, terrible, unpredictable, out-of-nowhere, seemingly preventable sounding death), reading this story today has solidified my commitment to never ride escalators again. This is the validation of a residual childhood fear that I worried was irrational.
Turns out, half of the Jezebel staff has an escalator injury story. Dodai once had a shoe ruined by an escalator in a Macy’s. I was once tripped by an escalator and had to sacrifice half of a sparkly shoelace on some trendy platform sneakers I’d saved up to buy from Alloy as well as scraping my knees and hands. Phoenix describes the escalators in China as a “death trap.” Kate’s mom lost the end of a finger to an escalator’s indifferent, brutal pull as she tried to retrieve a scarf. And Isha — Jesus Christ, poor Isha — had her hand seriously injured by an escalator when she was just a wee toddler; a bag containing a toy got caught, Toddler Isha grabbed for it, and hurt her little hand so badly that she required several reconstructive surgeries.
Sweet Jesus. I’ll be taking the stairs. Forever.