I ask only this – what is the design fault of a hole to enter and exit a building, with a bit of wood on hinges called a ‘door’ which fills said hole when not wallking through it? What in essence is the crazy, simplistic, inadequacy of this design? No, no I can’t see it either. I mean, it works quite well doesn’t it? You can make it an electric door which opens at the push of a button for people who are elderly or disabled. It can swing out, swing in – or if you really want to be futuristic it can slide with a ‘swish; like on Star Trek or that film..er..’Sliding Doors‘.
So why did someone in their infinite wisdom think that the design of the door could be ‘improved’ by it being a terrifying, confusing vortex of revolving partitions or a glass atrium with a circular tube going around you, over which you have no control and for one second you think you may have a heart attack from the surge of infinite panic which overwhelms you because suddenly nothing makes sense. Suddenly your notion of a door has been made so complicated you can’t even remember what you are doing. The thought of entering or exiting a building has completely left you and you are in a state of whirling incomprehension. Where am I? What’s going on? And then to make matters worse you are suddenly joined by a sweating stranger, eyes wild with panic, who has been thrown against you with equal terror and the proximity is too intimate. You both try not to touch each other, or smell each other’s fear, and there’s an unspoken understanding that whoever gets out first gets out alone. Oh this is no broken down hotel lift brothers and sisters. There’s no camaraderie when you are trapped in the ceaseless dance of the endless revolutions of a revolving door.
I understand it is a ‘design feature’ and that the straightforward nature of a door is not contemporary and stylish enough, even in 1888 when the damned revolving door was invented by American Theophilus Van Kannel to keep the heat in a foyer, sorry, lobby. Of course these days we have a hot air heater blowing hair-singeingly hot air at us from a grill you could cook bacon on at every doorway.In the movies romances may be ignited by eyes meeting through the glass of a revolving partition, or a briefcase being trapped as a trilby clad gent follows a pencil-skirted dame through a dark wood and brass affair which seems somehow carousel-like suddenly. This doesn’t happen. In truth you bang your nose on the glass partition, drop something, which you then have to try to retreive from the floor disappearing beneath your feet, catch your jacket somehow and watch it being dragged round and round before an annoyed receptionist yanks it out, realise you’re back where you started and have to enter the maw of the revolving door again, this time embarrassingly finding your face in a stranger’s armpit as you anxiously stumble with appalling timing into what you thought was a vacant section.All I can say is that the Gates of Hell are obviously fire-resistant glass revolving doors and once you’re in – you aint ever going to find your way out again sinner!
I rest my case…
Poor Alan 😦