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