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…in this post.

Shortly after, I sent in my own Dear Photograph entry. Here it is:

Shady's Dear Photograph

Dear Photograph decided not to use the image (or at least they haven’t used it yet), so I decided to go ahead and post it here.

I’ll give you a brief explanation of what you’re looking at: In May 1989, I was in the seventh grade and attending Jackie Robinson Middle School in Milwaukee. (Sadly, it’s now an apartment complex for senior citizens.) Each year, Robinson planned a big student trip. That year, the trip was to Los Angeles.

I was lucky enough to go that year. It was my first time in L.A. and away from home, which made it both cool and terrifying all at the same time. The trip included stops at Disneyland, Griffith Park Observatory, and Universal Studios.

Yeah… Universal Studios.

There’s much more to the story than this, but the short of it is that I (stupidly) decided to run up the down escalator at Universal Studios. As fate would have it, I tripped, and my kneecap dug into the toothy edge of one of the metal steps.

Eventually, I was rushed to an emergency room (by tour bus, oddly enough) and given four stitches, but as I waited in Universal Studios for a wheelchair to take me out of the park, I shot the photo above.

What you’re seeing there is a photo of my 12-year-old leg over an image of my 34-year-old body.

So my Dear Photograph note would say this:

Dear Photograph,

Walking up a down escalator may not be the brightest idea in the world, but it makes for one hell of a great story that you will never forget.

I’d do it all over again,


PS: A big hello to all my old Robinson friends who might remember this!

…I went to California on a school trip. It was the first time I had ever been to Los Angeles.

During the trip our class visited Universal Studios. At the end of the day, just as we were about to leave, I thought it would be a brilliant idea to go ahead and run up the down escalator.

It proved to be a horrible idea. I tripped and, well, this happened.

Which was then followed by an emergency room visit (as chaperoned by my seventh grade history teacher, Mrs. Johnson) and a handful of stitches.

This past Friday a few of us went to Universal Studios for Halloween Horror Nights, and I returned to that dreaded escalator for the first time in more than twenty years.

Oddly enough, I found myself getting nostalgic for what truly was a traumatic event. I started wondering if buried somewhere deep within the mechanics of the escalator was possibly a tiny bit of me.

That would be awesome. And creepy. But mostly awesome.

I’ve seen my kneecap,


Old Poop!