I always used to wonder as a kid: What would happen if I didn't step off the escalator? Could you really get sucked down in there? Or would it work like a big shredder?
It's sort of like wondering if you could go down the bathtub drain if you didn't get out. Or, fall into one of those storm drains in the street like that flat kid in the book.
It's as if when you're a kid, you and your imagination are pretty much the same thing. So if you can imagine falling into the heater vent, maybe you can really do it. Could I lay down between those train tracks and have the train go over me? Are those buildings close enough that you could jump from one to the other?
I wonder if it's partly because when you're a kid, your size is changing all the time. Where you fit is changing all the time. So, your idea of what size you are in relation to the world is a really elastic thing. So, you really do wonder where you can and can't go.
My daughter has a camera and I love looking at her pictures because they show the actual view of a 6-year-old. There are a lot of nostrils.
These days when I ride an escalator I still have that little moment before I get off where I imagine going right down into some upside down world or something. I bet I always will.