When you think Providence Place Mall, you usually think two things. Maybe one of those things involves the movie theater, or the mediocre food court fried chicken, or the simple joy of escaping the Brown bubble for a day.
But always, always- that other thing is its carpet. After all, our beloved mall is the Largest Carpeted Mall in New England! Or even, if you’re feeling extra prideful while you’re boasting to your extended family who have never heard of Providence, let alone Brown, this is the Largest Carpeted Mall in America!! Right here! Harvard could never.
Trust me, I did my fair share of boasting even before I ever stepped foot in the mall. But, being the uncertain premed I am, I like my research. So I did a little digging, hoping to find some Ripley’s certificate or at least a list of sorrowful runner ups for the Largest Carpeted Mall title. But what did I find? Nothing; nada; no receipts– unless you count Rhode Islanders proudly sharing this fun “fact” online. You’re welcome to do your own Google diving, but I’m warning you: you might develop an unhealthy amount of distrust for this shopping center. Cause I sure did.
By the time I finally visited Providence Place, that distrust morphed into phobia with the help of something else; something downright terrifying:
Okay, lying about carpet accomplishments is one thing, but this? I don’t know who thought it was a good idea to carve a huge hole in the center of the mall and slap some moving, croc eating, wholly untrustable escalators in the middle. If one of those demons breaks down or spontaneously combusts, paying customers are going to fall four straight floors down. And then it won’t matter how much carpet you have, my dear Providence Place, because that dull grey carpet of yours will be stained red with the blood of the customer that you have subjected to four floors of escalators in one hole.
Okay, I’m exaggerating. There will be no morbidity here. I’m sure that the Providence escalators are totally up to safety code, unlike that escalator in China that swallowed a woman. It’s just especially difficult for me to think happy thoughts as I go up my third escalator in the gaping maw of Providence Place. That’s because I have a little thing called acrophobia.
That’s right people: a fear of heights. Tall building? Nope. Tall building with a ginormous hole in the floor? I’m about to have a panic attack, if you couldn’t tell from my death grip on the railings and my awkward squatting in an attempt to be lower to the floor.
But what you can’t see is that my knees are also weak, my feet are tingling with a “get the hell out of here!!!” spidey-sense, I’m hyperventilating, and to top it all off, my mind is racing with improbable ways of the escalator breaking down, or me tipping over the side, or just somehow dying in general.
Kudos to my friends for laughing and sympathetically patting my back or whatever, but all I can think about when I’m on one of those dumb mall escalators is that right after this one is another, higher, even deadlier escalator. Because Providence Place thought it would be cool to set up their escalators for maximum danger and scare.
Honestly, am I really willing to put my soundness of mind on the line for a little bit of shopping?
I guess so — maybe the carpet will break my fall.