Escaquette. And the Breach Thereof.

et·i·quette

Pronunciation: \ˈe-ti-kət\

Function: noun

: the conduct or procedure required by good breeding or prescribed by authority to be observed in social life

es·ca·la·tor

Pronunciation: \ˈes-kə-ˌlā-tər\

Function: noun

: a power-driven set of stairs arranged like an endless belt that ascend or descend continuously

es-ca-quette

Pronunciation: \ˈes-kə-ˌket\

Function: noun

:The conduct or procedure required by good breeding when riding a power-driven set of stairs arranged like an endless belt that ascend or descend continuously

I am in JCPenney. I approach the escalator, an interesting invention for carrying customers up and down. I am heading upstairs to the third floor. To the home/gadget/furniture/whatnot section of the store.

Note: Why is that department always upstairs? Are more recliners sold to customers who are exhausted from their tortuous trek up the escalator? Just wondering.

JCPenney is not particularly busy today. Probably on account of the whole crummy economy and all. I am thinking about the whole crummy economy and all when I arrive at the second floor, which is the most amusing part of the store. The men's department is located right beside the women's lingerie section and both are immediately visible from the escalator. JCPenney is selling men's Big and Tall shirts for 70% off the already-reduced price right beside the most enormous striped pink bra I have ever seen, personally.

I am wondering about a woman who fits that bra as I turn the corner and step onto the next escalator, heading to the third floor.

I am standing on my little spot on the escalator. Which is of average size.

Note: The escalator is of average size. Not necessarily the spot. I am not a large woman, so my spot may have actually been little.

Then it happens.

The breach of esca-quette.

I hear a woman's pointy heels step onto the escalator behind me and to my shock and horror, she continues to proceed until she is on my step. Beside me. And she stops. On my step. Beside me.

Note: What the heck?

There are a dozen empty steps in front of me. There are five or six behind me. But she has chosen to stand beside me. Our shoulders are almost touching.

I am frozen. I was here first. This is my step. I cannot relinquish it. I think I can feel her breath. Kind of.

Note: Maybe I imagined that part. I certainly hope so.

We ride together to the third floor. In silence. She strides away. Her heels are clicking.

And I try to go about my business, as it nothing has happened. As if the world is the same. But it isn't. The line has been crossed.