MacGougan at Large

Notes on My Dangerous Neighborhood - 3

Ladders

Do you know what my neighborhood is full of? Ladders. For a retirement age male such as myself, the most dangerous thing in the world is a ladder. And yet, there’s no escaping them. I have a couple in my own garage. If you check the garages up and down my street, you'll find everybody has ladders. Some people have elaborate arsenals of ladders: step ladders, extension ladders, folding ladders, aluminum ladders, wooden ladders. 

It’s the American way. Whatever is dangerous, we want it in bulk.

And here's something you might not know if you aren't a retirement-age male: ladders are Sirens. If we so much as peek into a garage, they call out to us, shamelessly and wantonly.

“Hey Fella! Yeah, you! Don’t leave me hanging here! I can tell you aren’t one of those wussy, vertigo-afflicted old guys. No, not you! You know your way around a ladder, right? I’ll bet you’re a real billy goat. I’ll bet in no time you can scramble right up to the tippy-top. And let me tell you a secret. You know that sign that I have? The one that says my top is not a step? Don’t believe it. That's just lawyer talk. You and I both know that my top is a step. In fact, it's the best step. If you stand on my top, you can reach anything!”

This can create an awkward moment. “Uh, excuse me. I was just passing through to get to my car.”