This year’s work travels have uncovered a topic that bears        address.  Chicago, New York, Atlanta all presented unique but comparable situations that resulted in a vast array of outcomes.  Some of them I experienced directly; some as a casual  but fascinated observer.  I’m talking about the revolving door.  As unassuming as the revolving door is, gender entry presents a complex faux pas conundrum. One personal case in point… I arrive (alive) at  my New York hotel via cab and approach the revolving door at almost the same time a swarthy looking gentleman approaches.  I will call him “Jack” because nearly all masculine  media heroes are named Jack.  A well-appointed doorman was present and had he not been pre-occupied, I am sure…