I'm not your bitch, don't hang your shit on me.

Monday, May 15, 2006

The elevator game

When riding on an elevator, there is nothing you can do except for look at the three walls, the ceiling, the doors, the floor, the buttons or the floor numbers changing.

Maybe it’s the awkwardness of the space that makes people feel uncomfortable. Or maybe it’s the awkwardness of the people that makes the space uncomfortable.

Either way, you’re not going anywhere except for up or down.

To pass the time, I’ve devised a game that entertains me during those confined moments in confined spaces. I want others to feel as uncomfortable as I do. Fuck. Why should I be the only one?

After my friend and I wait patiently for an empty elevator to take us down a few floors (she’s too tired from walking and carrying her bags and the stairs are not an option), a man rushes into the elevator before the doors close.

We’re pissed. We waited to have an empty elevator and then this douche ruins it for us. Time for payback.

“I am so glad the rash is clearing up,” I say just loud enough for my friend and the douche to hear.

“Uh…” my friend replies. She’s not sure where this is going and is a little fearful of where it’s leading.

“I think the cream is working,” I continue.

“Hmmm…” My friend looks at the numbers changing on the display.

“It’s unfortunate that it’s contagious.” The douche twitches. I’ve got his attention. My friend says nothing. She’s as uncomfortable as the douche is as she waits for my next line.

“If I touch anything, the rash can spread to others…” The douche takes a step to the side.

“That reminds me, which floor did I press?” I look over at my friend. She gives me the What the hell are you doing? Are you on crack? face. I smirk and turn around to face the doors. “I’m not sure. I touched all the buttons...” my fingers pass over the floor buttons. The words linger in the air.

Ding. The door opens and the douche races out of the elevator. He disappears in a cloud of smoke.

Looking over at my friend, she gives me a look. “Please, don’t do that, again,” she pleads. “I was as uncomfortable as he was.”

“Ok,” I raise my hands. “No more contagious diseases. But, you do have to admit it was entertaining.”

She says nothing as she walks out of the elevator.

Fine. Next time around, I’ll just pretend I have Tourette's Syndrome.


Blogger kate said...

omg you are too funny!! cheers! K

May 15, 2006 6:03 am  
Blogger tornwordo said...

That's fun, albeit sadistic, lol.

May 15, 2006 7:04 am  
Blogger Kevin said...

Oh hell yeah. Slightly different circumstances but I had this guy believing I had my taint pierced. And my two friends played along completely. For about 25 minutes.

Good times ... good times ...

P.S. I don't have it pierced.

May 15, 2006 9:23 am  
Blogger Steven said...

Kate: Thanks.

Torn: Thanks. I try.

Six: TMI, but thanks.

May 15, 2006 11:14 pm  

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