Thursday, October 7, 2010

Stuck in the Elevator With Your October 7, 2010

13th Floor
“Maybe we can pry open the doors.”   He speculates.  He’s probably just getting over the shock of near death.
“With what?  You got a crowbar in your pocket?” I quip.   Whoops.  Am I a jerk or what?
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”  I apologize.  What am I thinking?  He’s trying to get us out of here and I’m sending out barbs. 
He just says, “What you got in that satchel?  Maybe there’s something in there we can use.”
He’s pointing at my carryall. 
“It’s just my papers and gym clothes.”  I say.
Then all of sudden, I remember.
“Wait a minute.”  I grab my bag and start piling through.  I jerk out my clipboard with a happy smile.
“What about this?” 
Then I look at the clipboard in my hand.  There’s a stay free maxi pad stuck to the top.  It’s just flapping there.  I grab at the pad and throw it in back in the bag.   I am so embarrassed.
We just look at each other for a minute. 
“You still want to use this?”  I say.
“Hell, yeah.”  He says and he’s smiling.
That’s when we start using my clipboard to jimmy open the elevator door.  We are grunting and pushing.  Nothing.
“Maybe there’s some way we can climb out of the top.”  I’m already looking around for some way to climb out of there.  My sturdy shoes don’t seem so bad anymore.  All the disaster, thriller movies have the heroes climbing out of the elevator.  The women are always wearing these impossible shoes and scanty clothes.  I am way ahead of the game here.  I am prepared.
Just about that time, the elevator starts to jerk again. 
“Would a drop from the 13th floor kill you?”   My legs are quivering.
“It might, but I’m not going to let that happen.” He looks so certain, so positive.  And I believe him.
Ladies, every once and while you need to go through your bag and clean it out and that means your gym bag too.  Put everything in its proper place.  That way so many situations can be avoided.  For instance, where is my favorite lipstick? And what about this one and I know you all have been there.  She’s the annoying woman in the checkout line that cannot find her checkbook or her wallet.  No, the rest of us are not in a hurry.  That’s why I go to the grocery store. That way I can stand in line and read all the magazines I’m too cheap to buy.  Ever been somewhere and needed a comb.  Where could it be?  In the body of the purse with the pencils, lipstick, change and the old snack bar that you forgot you had.  Yummy.  Although, there is something to be said about an emergency snack. 
Because what are those big purses about, anyway.  Here is a woman of the 21st century with a bag bigger than a breadbasket on her shoulder.  If you gonna carry something like that, make sure that you have all the equipment inside. 
And what does a bag say about a woman.  Think about it for a while.  Does it say I can’t go anywhere without what?  Without my wallet, my keys, my comb, my lipstick, my address book, my pens, my pencils, my notebook, my pictures of whoever, my compact.  For God sakes.  Why don’t we just carry a suitcase and be done with it.  That way if we have a mental meltdown, we don’t have to go home.  We can just keep on driving.


Friday, September 24, 2010

22nd floor Stuck in the Elevator with You September 24, 2010

22nd Floor
We still are not moving.  He is talking now.  He walks over to the console. 
“I’ll just call maintenance.”  He says. 
If I were not so occupied with my bladder and the offensive camera thing, I would be able to appreciate his lovely voice.  However, I am eyeing my exercise bottle.  The Camera is watching.  I move over to the camera and wave my hands. 
“Hey, anybody there?” 
He puts the phone back down.  “It’s not working.”
Now we are both reaching in our pockets for our cell phones.  No signal.  What the heck?
We look at each other.  We speak in unison, “I guess we’re stuck.”
We laugh. 
Ha. Ha. Real funny.  I am going to make a spectacle of myself and people will be playing me on YouTube, courtesy of the elevator camera.
“You don’t have to look so miserable.  I’m sure someone will be here in a minute or two.” He says.
“Oh, I know. Someone will be here in a little bit, “  I say.
He can look so calm.  He will not be featured on Tosh.0.  Maybe Tosh will let me redeem myself. 
The seconds tick by.  We shuffle our feet.  He’s the first to speak. 
“I guess that’s what we get for using the service elevator,”    he says.
There’s a jerk and we begin to move.  And move quickly. 
22nd, 21st, 20th Floor
Now we are both against the wall holding on for dear life.  We look at each other straight in the eyes.  This is no time for elevator etiquette.   Fear is beginning to register.
19th floor
18th floor
17th floor
16th floor
It’s not true about your life running in front of your eyes before you die.  What I see is my death,  lying there on the floor of a dirty elevator.  At least, I will get to pee.   
15th floor
The elevator jerks to a stop.  We are flung together and for a second we just stand there, afraid to move.
14th floor
It’s slower now.  We are clutching each other.  I cannot believe this. 
13th floor
We stop again.  We awkwardly disentangle.   I have forgotten about dying.

Tips for Anybody.
Always, always wear nice underwear.  Your mother was right.  You go out in the world with last year’s rags and you will pay.   My mother’s advice was much more drastic.  She always had us visualizing a car wreck.  The rescue squad lights blipping in the night, my half conscious body lying on the road.  Somewhere in the reaches of my subconscious a voice is talking. 
It’s him. We all know one.  The neighbor down the street that volunteers for the rescue squad and hangs around the fire department.   He’s talking to his buddy.  “Did you see her underwear, Jesus.”  It’s been a long time since anybody’s tapped that thing. ”  Did I mention that my neighbor was a jerk.
This could easily have been avoided.
Now you are thinking,  “Viola, haven’t you seen the price of underwear these days?”  And I am thinking, “Just give up those little extras.”    “Have you calculated what those CafĂ© Lattes cost a month?”  I’m just saying, “Priorities”.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

September 7, 2010 7:06 a.m. Stuck In The Elevator With You

25th floor
Oh, no. Cardinal Rule broken.  Never get on an elevator with a full bladder. All my dreams of a romantic encounter smashed. Stuck in an elevator with him while  peeing in my pants like a dirty old tramp.  Better yet, I have my exercise bottle.  What will he do? Politely look away. What if he is one of those freaks.  You know what I mean.  I don’t have to spell it out.
I’m in a big hurry now.  I can’t get off this elevator fast enough.

24th floor
There’s no music on this damn elevator.  Only silence.  The elevator jerks again and we are moving.  Why didn’t I read the tabloids.  I would know, if he was a nut.  Celebrities have no private life.  Right now all I can think about is getting off this elevator. 
He’s just standing there innocent.  Well as innocent as anybody can be.  Which reminds me.  I wore the Halloween panties today.  The ones with the devil and the pitchfork.  It’s not Halloween.

23rd floor
The elevator rattles, jerks and then stops.  I scream, "Oh, No."
He looks at me incredulously, and says, "It's probably someone else getting on". 
Nothing happens.  I stand there in stricken silence with a full bladder and devil panties. Me and my devil panties.  The brunt of talk shows as he conveys his experience with Jay Leno and the Women on the View.  The Pee Bottle Woman. I would be the subject of Today Show and their medical doctor’s advice on controlling a weak bladder.  Matt Lauer joking about installing Depends dispensers on all elevators.  Please Matt, no.  We still are not moving.
There is an intercom and Oh, please, no Lord, a camera in the corner of the elevator.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

September 7, 2010

Stuck in the Elevator With You.     7:04 p.m.

31st Floor
I can’t believe it. Me in the elevator with him. All the way down from the 31st floor. Alone. The Main Thing is to act normal. Oh, God, don’t let this end poorly.  I know that it is unseemly to  bother God. But who else could I beg in a time of crisis, my mother.  Please let’s not go there. I am not going to look at him.  If I do, he’ll see that simpleton grin.  That face of desperation that all men can smell from fifty feet away.  He is just another passenger on the awkward ride down to the Lobby.  You know what I mean.  Two people riding on the slow elevator to the first floor.  One looks at the floor and the other stares at the numbers willing the elevator to go down.
He had the numbers, I had the floor.

30th Floor
Please let the elevator break down. We would be stuck here exchanging witty repartee’.  That way he would notice my rather beautiful eyes and voluptuous mouth.  He would be drawn into my personality wondering, “Who is the mystery woman?"
Actually, he is still staring at the wall and I am looking at my sturdy shoes.  Why did I wear these shoes? 

29th Floor
After a few minutes of this witty repartee’, one of his arm’s would lean against the wall by my shoulder and his face would only be a breath away. By the way, his breath would be minty sweet.
Out of the corner of my eye, he looks a little rumpled.   I can’t tell much since I can’t make eye contact.  That would be breaking elevator/celebrity acknowledgment rules.

28th floor.
We lean in closer to each other.  Our conversation grows more intimate and neither one of us care about elevator repairs.  Oh, I am way ahead of myself.
However, as I keep my shoelaces in eye contact, I notice the nasty/downright dirty floor.  Gross.  Who could sit here much less anything else. 

27th Floor
We shuffle our feet. It is amazing. No one is getting on with us. I look up to smile the common elevator acknowledgment. He is polite and returns the smile.  I wonder if he knows what I am thinking.  All those big stars have to beat the women off with a stick. 
You know, I don’t think that sounded quite right.

26th Floor
The elevator jerks to a stop, starts, jerks again, and stops.  We both look each other and laugh nervously.   Oh, my Lord, my prayer has been answered.
He reaches past me and I jump back.  God, I am such a goof.  He is only pressing the button.  So anxious to get off.  And I don’t mean that figuratively.  Nothing is happening.  Then there is a jerk and we begin our descent.  Oh, well, what in the world was I thinking.

To be continued