Home Sweet Macy's? - NYTimes.com It was a Tuesday in October, one of those do-laundry or buy-new-underwear mornings. I decided on the latter. I went to Macy's, where I bought a lot of new underwear and a few pajamas. I was the last customer on the floor. I took the escalator down and each floor looked ominously empty. The 34th Street exit, where the subway is, has two sets of revolving doors and two sets of regular doors. All the doors were locked. I shouted out to the selling floor: "Please, help, I'm locked in. Could someone please let me out? No response. I kept on shouting. I considered phoning for help. But whom would I call? Customer service? I thought of calling the police. But how could I explain that I'm locked in Macy's? I figured, well, O.K., I have pajamas and clean underwear; I could go upstairs to the furniture department and sleep on a sofa. I had visions of store security searching each floor with big German shepherds. I kept on shouting to be let out. Finally, someone showed up and walked me to a door on 34th Street. We passed cases filled with diamonds and other spectacular jewelry. And all I wanted was to get out.