Gasoline:
this unfortunate event is all my mothers fault. i'm just gonna go ahead and say it. not that i haven't already told her that multiple times already...but thats not the point. sooo, i'm 5 years old. that's right. FIVE. as in kindergardner who cant even multiply or write in cursive yet. my mom & i are en route to drop me off at my babysitters, when she for some UNKNOWN reason, gets the bright idea to let me pump the gas. for the first time ever. at the ripe age of FIVE. so i grab the nozzle, & attempt to put it in the gas tank, but i miss of course b/c the thing is almost as big as i am. & b/c she gave me little-to-no directions, i'm pressing the lever...& gas is going everywhere BUT the gas tank. i lose control & it starts spraying all over myself, the car, & the ground. Then my mom finally notices the situation when she gets out of the car & i began to spray her down, by accident ;) so she eventually grabs the thing & cuts it off. i am now the most highly flammable kindergardner in lancaster county. we attempt to "bathe" me with wet paper towels in the stank texaco bathroom, mom fills up the tank herself (thank GOD gas wasnt as expensive as it is now, because i wasted a lot..i mean a lot. hope no one threw any lit cigs on the ground later.), and we head to babysitters. who looks at my mother as an abusive parent when i come in wet & REEKING of gasoline. so that was that. i dont think i pumped gas again until at least middle school. lesson learned for mother.
Escalator:
so the elevator experience was a little later. i was still elementary school, probably 7-8 yrs old. the whole family (well except the guys, obviously) was at the mall for christmas shopping & to take our pictures with santa claus. we're in one of those department stores, probably freakin Belk's. gah i hate that store. anyways, we were about to go upstairs, so of course i ran ahead as i'm always ready to move on to the next place. everyone was getting ready to get on the elevator, so i went ahead..but like a dang retard, i only put 1 foot on the escalator. i turn around to see them standing there talking about how to get a stroller on the escalator, when i realize my leg is moving up the escalator without the rest of my body. so here i am, being stretched into a full split (thank god for childhood flexibility), when i start screaming at my mom to help me. whyyyyy i didnt just move my other leg, i. dont. know., but it eventually made it so i rode to the 2nd floor just casually doing a split on the escalator...but really freaking the heck out. SO, that event (combined w/the fact that my mom always said escalators would suck you into where those green lights are if you didnt jump off at the end...WHO TELLS A CHILD THAT?) kept me riding elevators only (or taking stairs) for a few years.
