Literally Caught In A Revolving Door. It's Almost Too Perfect. Related: I Am Not Ready To Be A Grown-Up.

In a poetically perfect metaphor for my feelings about the adult life soon to be thrust upon me, I got stuck in a revolving door last week as I was walking out of the train station that brings me into the big city from my sweet little student life in the suburbs. 

To be more specific, my arm got stuck.  Because I was pushed out of the way by a woman who was rushing to get ahead.  She darted ahead of me and pushed hard to move the revolving door forward.  When she did so, I fell back and my arm inconveniently intervened with her desire to advance by getting caught in the door as it swept forward.  I cried out.  She perfunctorily apologized.  I wrested my arm from the door and she pushed forward and ran on. 

Luckily, I was wearing a thick wool coat so the damage was minimal.  A nice gentleman asked me if I was okay and commented that he hoped she had a very important place to be.  I do too.