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Tuesday, April 28, 2015


One of the things that took me a while to get used to when I moved to Atlanta was men holding doors for me and waiting for me to exit the elevator first. I don't view holding doors as a man/woman thing. I view holding doors as a polite thing and I have ever since I was 15 and let the door to the mall close on my mom. Do I need to mention the lecture I got since it left an indelible impression on me?

In the three years I've lived in Atlanta, I've learned to move smartly if I see a man in front of me because he will hold that door until I pass through it. It's one of the things I like about Georgia—the common courtesies are still observed.

I wasn't aware of just how accustomed I'd become to this until my latest trip to Minnesota when I got on the elevator with some man. I had been there first, so I moved over to the side with the buttons, leaving him near where the doors opened. As we approached our floor, I was preparing to move quickly when it dawned on me that he might not expect me to exit first.

Maybe I'd wait and see what happened once the doors opened. Sure enough, it never occurred to him to let me go ahead of him. Same thing with the door to the dental office. He held it so it didn't close on my face, but he didn't stand aside and allow me to enter before him.

Of course, this had me remembering how awkward I felt when I first arrived in Georgia. When I'd suddenly have to pick up my pace or leave a man standing there with the door open forever.

I'm not sure when I became used to the door thing. Long enough that I've actually stopped noticing it in Atlanta and needed an epiphany to realize I might need to hang back while I was in Minneapolis. I guess I've gotten used to more than the weather since my move south.