Before malls came along and pulled everything
under one roof, you went downtown. Not once in a while. All the time. And if
you were in Cedar Rapids, Killian’s was part of that trip whether or not you
planned it.
You didn’t walk in thinking, “I need to buy
something.” You walked in because it was there. Because everyone went in, and
it felt like something was happening inside.
Enormous doors. That blast of cooler air in the
summer. That department store smell—clothes, perfume, candy, all mixed together.
And if you were a kid, you weren’t thinking about
shopping. You were heading straight for the escalator.
Up. Down. Up again. No reason. Nobody stopped you
unless you got stupid about it. Same deal with the elevators. Half the fun was
just riding them. If there was an operator in there, even better. It felt like
you were getting away with something.

