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raybearI feel the urge to write something drama-queenish like "I've lost the urge to live" or even "I've got the vapors", but really I'm just suffering from Friday Afternoon Syndrome.
Yesterday evening I went to visit my therapist in a new office. Well, new to me. I used to go to her home office, but from now on I'll be visiting the downtown gigs on Michigan Avenue in a building with lots of art and music students.
I wanted to take the stairs, but they weren't open between certain floors, at least not for going up. So I waited and waited and waited. There were three elevators of the vintage variety, complete with a person to run and push the buttons. I felt nervous about yelling out what floor I needed and was concerned it wasn't loud enough. I figured the worst case scenario is I'd ride all the way up to eight on the way down ask him to stop at six.
At floor five, this white middle aged geeky professor sensitive new-age guy got on the elevator with his son, who was maybe nine.
"Floor six, please."
"What?" said the elevator man.
"Six, please." He put his hand protectively on the boy's shoulder.
The elevator man furrowed his brow as he shut the door. As he pulled the lever, he pointed out the door and said "the stairs are RIGHT there."
White man got a little haughty, but didn't say anything, cause you know, he was some passive academic guy who's "sensitive". But I could tell he was mad because his lips pursed and I saw his hand grip the son's shoulder tighter. He might have even mumbled something like "so what?"
The doors opened, they stepped out and I followed. He turned around to look at me, I suspect to catch my eye and somehow bond with me about the elevator man's attitude, but I had nothing to do with it. I looked forward and just kept walking towards the tiny men's room that contained two urinals, two sinks, and no actual commode -- a different kind of "half-bathroom".
While I was taking a piss, I just kept thinking, "I guess whitey didn't like the hinting that he was lazy."
Yesterday evening I went to visit my therapist in a new office. Well, new to me. I used to go to her home office, but from now on I'll be visiting the downtown gigs on Michigan Avenue in a building with lots of art and music students.
I wanted to take the stairs, but they weren't open between certain floors, at least not for going up. So I waited and waited and waited. There were three elevators of the vintage variety, complete with a person to run and push the buttons. I felt nervous about yelling out what floor I needed and was concerned it wasn't loud enough. I figured the worst case scenario is I'd ride all the way up to eight on the way down ask him to stop at six.
At floor five, this white middle aged geeky professor sensitive new-age guy got on the elevator with his son, who was maybe nine.
"Floor six, please."
"What?" said the elevator man.
"Six, please." He put his hand protectively on the boy's shoulder.
The elevator man furrowed his brow as he shut the door. As he pulled the lever, he pointed out the door and said "the stairs are RIGHT there."
White man got a little haughty, but didn't say anything, cause you know, he was some passive academic guy who's "sensitive". But I could tell he was mad because his lips pursed and I saw his hand grip the son's shoulder tighter. He might have even mumbled something like "so what?"
The doors opened, they stepped out and I followed. He turned around to look at me, I suspect to catch my eye and somehow bond with me about the elevator man's attitude, but I had nothing to do with it. I looked forward and just kept walking towards the tiny men's room that contained two urinals, two sinks, and no actual commode -- a different kind of "half-bathroom".
While I was taking a piss, I just kept thinking, "I guess whitey didn't like the hinting that he was lazy."
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Re: i'm confused
Date: 2003-07-13 07:29 pm (UTC)