One of my most vivid Michigan childhood memories is of an escalator.

One of my most vivid childhood memories is of an escalator.

While I say “vivid,” few details survive in my mind. Most of what I can remember about that mid-1990s night during a Girl Scout sleepover at the Detroit Science Center (yes, I spent the night in a museum and it was as awesome as you’re thinking) are a few vague, high-level elements.

I tried the hands-on exhibits, ran around with my friends, observed some science experiments, watched a movie on the IMAX Dome and got seasick. Overall: a fantastic time.

But the escalator stands out in a way the other pieces do not. Which is a bit silly because it was literally an escalator ride.

I stood in a long line of kids, single file, and stepped onto the moving staircase. Up we went through a dark tube that seemed as though it was transporting us to another world. All around us, neon lights in bold colors flashed in the otherwise dark tunnel as we traveled upwards.

I do not remember what we left behind or where we were headed. Just the escalator ride itself imprinted in my memory. 

Decaying Memories

It was so long ago, I have sometimes wondered how real it was, or maybe it was a dream I had? Maybe upon recalling it so many times, my brain edited the reality into something so far from the truth that it became something wholly new. 

So thirty years (yikes) later, I returned to the Science Center as an adult with kids of my own. I wasn’t sure what to expect as I knew the museum had undergone some big changes in the intervening years.

Major renovations in 1999 were followed by a complete closure after Detroit’s bankruptcy in 2011. It reopened in 2012 under new management and a new name: the Michigan Science Center. 

Though I hoped, I did not know whether the escalator was still around. And if it was, would it live up to my memory? 

Sensory Input

As soon as you walk into the Michigan Science Center, all the exhibits compete for your attention.

A full replica of the Mackinac Bridge constructed from an erector set lines the front windows. A different version, larger yet shorter – one you can walk on – sits across the big open room.

Traffic lights blink on and off. Rocketships loom large in the distance. Children yell and laugh as they run across the clanging grates of an asphalt plant playscape.

An elevator in the center has clear walls. Parts of the floor open to a lower level with a whole slew of additional things to see. 

My children, I could tell, wanted very badly to do everything at once, including to be upstairs and downstairs simultaneously. I tried my best to guide and engage them in one thing at a time. 

We waited patiently for a turn to look inside a spaceship. We watched a big kid fly his paper airplanes through rings marking the distance. We played with the traffic lights.

Walked across the Mini Mac. They built structures out of bricks and moved giant chess pieces around a giant black-and-white-checked board. We tested out the wind and weather exhibits. 

Short-Term Memory

We were about to head into the health gallery when a big domed window in the middle of the room caught my attention. I got closer and found myself gazing down a tunnel with colorful flashing lights. 

It was the escalator. 

But it was an “up” escalator. The doors around the corner declared they were exit-only. How could I get there? I announced to the kids it was time to find our way downstairs. They were excited to finally try the elevator. 

Interference

It must be one of the busiest elevators in the city because we had to wait a few cycles before we could fit in. Once on board, we saw it was constructed to allow a view of not only the muted chaos outside but also the mechanics of operation.

By standing in the back and looking up, we could see the gears turning, cables moving, and the counterweight passing by as we traveled between levels.

The downstairs seemed even busier than the upstairs. Musical instruments and lights and electricity and so much more. I kept expecting to stumble upon the escalator but saw no indications that it existed.

At this point, my husband went to get our cranky toddler a snack while I explored more with our six-year-old. We watched a giant pendulum swing. We played with lasers. We walked up a “mountain” trying to solve math problems as we went. 

Neurons Connecting

Around the corner from the math mountain was a quiet hall empty of people. Facades of houses, stores, and other town buildings lined the walls. A tree with a friendly face stretched its branches overhead, dangling its leaves from the ceiling.

My son liked the pretend little town so we kept walking. He tried opening the fake doors. We walked to the end and turned the corner to see a few more buildings along the walls and a couple of empty rooms closed off for activities.

I could hear a humming that I assumed was the HVAC. Clearly, there were no exhibits beyond this point. I was ready to head back until I realized the true source of the humming noise.

At the end of the hall were doors to a theater and around the corner was the escalator. 

A Core Memory

To my joy, my son was almost as into it as I was. The escalator was narrow enough to require a single file of riders. The lights flashed above us as we moved up. The only sound within was the escalator itself.

I flashed back to elementary-school me, traveling upward in space and time in a cocooned portal. It was over far too soon.

Back out onto the main floor, we found my husband and toddler, who very clearly had had it and were ready to leave.

I insisted that we all needed to go back to the escalator. The little one had to experience it, too. THIS COULD BE A CORE MEMORY. 

Long-Term Memory

So the four of us made our way back down, through the little town streets, which the six-year-old showed off to the newcomers, and we went to the escalator portal again. At least three of us were enchanted.

At the top, a pair of children saw us coming through the dome window. They ran around to get in the doors, wanting to experience the escalator first-hand. We told them it was up-only but gave directions for how to find it.

Go make a core memory, kids.

You too can re-live, or experience for the first time, the escalator and much more at the Michigan Science Center, Tuesdays through Sundays at 5020 John R. Street in Detroit.