The Escalator Incident of 2019

The Escalator Incident of 2019

“Do we have any lawyer friends?” Donna asked. 

I scanned my brain for anyone at all, but already knew the answer.  Unfortunately, my love for Jews has not aided in my need for a boyfriend of this profession.  I desperately could’ve used a lawyer friend most of my life, one of Annalise Keating’s status.  Homegirl loves to break the law.   

My friend’s make fun of the fact that I get weary of breaking standard rules, but when it comes to illegal activity I am full in.  Bring a bottle in the pool, when it clearly says no glass – absolutely not. Smuggle drugs through the border, and then sell them to strangers – just another days work.  

The reasoning behind this question had nothing to do with my criminal antics.  There was a freak accident at the MGM Grand, and we were all somewhat involved.  Some were injured, some were saviors, and some watched the entire horrific incident unfold.  Post Escalatorgate 2019 none of us would be the same. 

It was the second day into my Quinceanera, and everyone had been consistently trashed for over 24 hours.  We had a large penthouse suite in the MGM, and people seemed to be having the time of their lives. There was one mishap with our ability to get into Hakkasan quickly, that ended with me sobbing in the line.  However, a quick trip back to the room to fix my makeup, and eat ice cream cake put a bandaid on that wound.  

The wounds I would get in a mere couple hours, would be much more damaging.  

In the new age of Lyft and Uber, MGM insists on having a designated pick up area.  Being veterans of the establishment, aka being there once, we were familiar with the location.  I forced everyone to paint the town red, and passerbys stared in awe at the matching color scheme of my crew.  Nothing could slow us down, until it did.

I walk faster than anyone I know.  It’s unclear if it’s the Chicago mentality in me, but even in my 5 inch platforms I was naturally ahead of the pack.  There was one more escalator we had to travel up to get to our destination. I stepped onto the death machine without a care in the world.  

As I looked down at my dear friend Gabby making light conversation, I felt a wave of panic rush over me.  My body began to fall, as my right hand flew backwards attempting to catch myself. It was holding my phone, and I slid down the side of the escalator knocking down Gabby in my wake.  

She landed straight on her back, and I unknowingly screamed in terror.  My neck was on the corner of a sharp escalator step, and as my head was pushing up and down in sync with each passing step, Gabby turned and grabbed my arm.  The look of fear in her eyes was one I will never forget, as she loudly yelled HELP!  

Several bodies were piled on top of ours, and I immediately regretted wearing my tiniest dress out that night. 

My head rushed to the image of both Gabby and I having our hair caught in the escalator, and coming out of this scalped.  I thought about how long it had taken me to grow out my thick latina locks. What a mother fucking waste. If I had to buy a wig because of this, MGM would be paying for it. 

I saw wheels of some sort of walker fly by my head, and dozens of debit and credit cards smacked Gabby and I in the face.  We hoped to garden none of them were our own. Let me call up Chase, and tell them my card was eaten by the escalator of death.  I heard a guardian angel whispering in my ear, who had arms underneath both sides of Gabby and I. 

“I got you babe, I got you!” Lola continued to say.  

Holy shit, I didn’t even know she made it on, but I was oh so glad for her presence.  My body calmed a bit, and she coached Gabby and I at the end of our ride of pain. With her hands under our arms, her 100 pound body managed to lift us with superhuman strength.  We both pushed up with our feet, and luckily escaped being scalped like the Barbie’s your brother pulled all the hair out of.  

As soon as we got to the top, I noticed that only my phone case was in my hand.  Somehow my phone had been ripped out of the case, and I looked down to about 12 phones laying at the top of the escalator.  It’s 2019, so they were all iphones of course, and looked relatively the same. 

I started tapping frantically on each one, when Lola handed me mine.  She said she found it slithering up an escalator stair. It was unscathed, and I wondered how in the hell that was possible.  It had fallen onto a metal escalator with no case – suspect.

Our friends Axel, Leo, and Alexis rushed up the escalator to find us.  Later we would find out, that when the tumble began everyone at the bottom got completely silent and froze.  No one knew what to do, and when Axel turned Alexis had dropped to her knees with her mouth gaping open awestruck.  He gave everyone a pep talk before climbing the stairs to see if we were alive. 

“You guys, we CANNOT laugh about this until we know they are ok.  There is no telling what kind of injuries that caused.” Axel said.    

After their arrival, I noticed that my OCS stickers were strewn all over the place, and picked a couple up without thought of where they came from.  Gabby immediately started crying from the trauma, and I turned to anger. 

“Do these people know who I AM?  I am suing everyone here.  I come from a long line of Jewish princesses, and everyone in my family is a lawyer.  I’m suing the MGM, I’m suing the people who fell on me, everyone is going down for this. Literally and figuratively…” I laughed.

I hadn’t seen the reason for the fall, but everyone else had.  A man with a cast on his leg with one of those walker scooters, had rolled on the escalator with it.  One can only assume the wheels moved on this scooter, and he fell backwards because of it. He created a domino effect that had 15-20 people injured.  He was near the top of the escalator when he fell, and we had only recently stepped on. No one ever stopped it, so we just continued to tumble for the entire ride, until finally reaching the top.  

Without a doubt, Gabby and I received the worst of the incident.

A nearby security guard asked if we needed medical attention, and then blamed Gabby for the fall.  At that point Leo began mouthing off to the security guard, and he got defensive. We decided we were not going to give a statement, due to this royal dbag.  She was literally bleeding and crying, why were we being treated like criminals? Logistically, there was no way we could have created all those people falling backwards on top of us.  

“Where’s our Lyft?” I asked.  Everyone turned in shock, wondering how it was possible I still wanted to go out.  

As we drove away in our Lyft, we saw the ambulance pass.  I wondered what kind of injuries some of the older people had.  Their frail bones could definitely crack under the metal, and such a sharp staircase.  Hell, people have died from falling down regular stairs before. For some reason I couldn’t comprehend the fact that I may be pretty injured as well.  I am sure the alcohol played a major factor. 

Gabby was bleeding from her hands, arms, and back.  I kept describing her back as a “cooked salmon,” but I think Wolverine ripping it apart was a better analogy.  Her and I were polar opposites in how we dealt with this trauma. She was very shaken up and crying for quite some time after, totally normal.  I am a psychopath, so naturally I was THRILLED.  

“I’m putting this in my book.  Wow, what a fucking story this is!  This is some movie shit, like in the Hangover when everything goes in slow mo, and you think these sons of bitches have the worst luck.  Only in the cinema, right? Wrong, this is my real life! SO. MUCH. CONTENT!” I chanted that last phrase up and down the streets of Vegas.  I wouldn’t shut up about how wild this event was. 

I looked for my Big Red gum at one point, and then realized I may have had a bag.  We had to search everyone’s Instagram videos to find out that indeed my red purse had come out with us.  It was now lost, with several of my belongings.  It had become a casuality in Escalatorgate.

“What is this on your IG story K?”  Gabby asked.  We all looked down to see a blurry photo that posted.  You could see my red platform above my head, and we soon realized I had taken the picture mid fall.  It was the only evidence we had of The Escalator Incident of 2019.

Later in the night I did start to form bruises.  I noticed my muscles were pulled when everything first happened, but was more concerned about Gabby’s injuries.  It also doesn’t help that everyone thinks I am neurotic, so whenever I say something is wrong with me it is immediately discredited.  I would like to announce that the reason why I am paranoid, is because I happen to have the worst luck. Things are always wrong with me, and usually I ignore them until they get so bad it’s serious.  This was another instance of that happening. 

The next morning I woke up still drunk, and somehow continue to party for 12 more hours.  You could tell I was hammered, because I wore my makeup from the night before. Apparently your girl couldn’t even muster a makeup wipe.  Our penthouse resembled a frat house, and we all scrambled to drunkenly clean it.  

I threw on some clothes, and only one of my eyes still held up with the winged eyeliner.  I went out on the streets looking like a maniac. If you know me, you are aware I normally won’t even go out without lashes on.  Brunch, shopping, picture taking, more bars, more food, and finally my bender was over.  

Cue the Depression Kitty from Big Mouths arrival.  She came, and she has yet to leave over a week later. 

Axel and I drove back to LA two days after the Escalator Incident.  My bruises were now pitch black, and I had quite the limp going on. I was in gymnastics and cheerleading for a big portion of my life, so I knew my wrist and ankles were most likely sprained.  I knew most of my fingers were jammed as well. These are the types of injuries you just suck it up for, since nothing can really be done.  

I tried to rest in the coming days, but I seemed to be getting worse.  Particularly my head, it was killing me. My neck made sense, as it was on the corner of a metal stair.  I had somehow forgotten that I hit my head on metal stairs over and over during the tumbling, and moving of the escalator.  I awoke one night deathly ill, and thought I might have food poisoning. A light bulb flickered on, and I realized I probably had a concussion. 

I went to the doctor the next morning, and she confirmed I had suffered a massive concussion.  My sprains and jammed fingers were right on the nose. Someone hand me a doctorate, because I am a master diagnoser. 

After some xrays we found out my coccyx bone was only badly bruised, but that there were fragments of loose bone in my hand from a break.  How I had been using it like this, and how I am using it now to type I do not know. As I mentioned before, I tend to push through a lot of illness and injury.  Telling me to rest, is by far the worst thing I can hear. 

In hindsight, we probably should’ve waited for the ambulance to get there.  We should have given a statement to security. We should have went back to the room and rested.  I also should not be working, or even writing you this with a massive concussion. Doctor has ordered cognitive rest, so if this is a choppy piece she is liable.  I will blame my lack of editing on the fact that my brain is currently damaged.  

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, doesn’t apply if you leave with brain trauma.  I have no clue what my rights are to sue anyone, or if the MGM is in any way liable. What I do know is that this would’ve never happened if we all just waited in line for Hakkasan, like I wanted.  It was my party, and I will cry in the line of a club if I want to.

With much love and angst – the Birthday Kween,


K. Broch