GOING UP!!!
I think we can all agree that we are living in a world of lunacy which is causing so much stress and strife among us.
As difficult as it is for me to admit, I too, am stressed and am at my wits end. I take no shame in admitting this shortcoming to you all. My patience level is at a 12, when 10 is the max on my stress meter. My beautiful wife can attest to this, yet she remains by my side. Everywhere I turn, I am confronted with anxiety, and something as simple as riding on an elevator has inspired me to write this latest edition of FEDSFEDUP.
Recently, I had the misfortune of staying overnight in Manhattan. Without getting into my personal hatred of NYC, we checked into a hotel. This hotel was far from busy, but regardless, the room gods chose the 34th floor for our overnight stay. Needless to say, an elevator was imperative, as walking up 34 flights was not an option. (Although my wife would have climbed the stairs in order to keep up with her daily exercise regimen.)
Now, riding an elevator in a hotel in the city is a science and requires “strategic mobility”. This particular hotel had 6 elevator banks, of which, 2 were out of order. Leaving you to wonder when the last time any of these elevators were serviced. So now you have 4 banks to choose from. The strategy comes in when the crowd starts to shuffle in and you must decide which elevator bank you think is coming next so you are in the right position to guarantee getting on. Of course there are always the floaters who stand slightly in front of you but stand between two banks, hedging their bet. This way they can cut you off into your bank, or block you from getting into the bank next to the one you chose. As the doors open, usually the bank you did not choose, everyone begins the “cram”, with zero regard for their fellow man. Of course the people getting off exit directly towards you, which makes it virtually impossible for you to maneuver onto the elevator until they pass. At last, all aboard, with basically no room to move. People to the right, the left, in front, and behind you. The air is usually not circulating, giving you oxygen deprivation. The doors begin to close, but wait. Here comes the guy that could not wait for the next empty car, and proceeds to push the button on the outside, making the doors reopen. “Room for one more?’ he queries. No one responds, however you don’t have to be a mind reader to know what everyone is thinking. As he jams in, with whatever little room remains, the doors begin to close once again. But wait, the doors open yet again, as we find out that either his luggage or belly is protruding beyond the invisible safety line. Finally, after sucking in his gut, doors close, he yells out, “4 please”.
Finally, our journey begins. As the elevator limps to the fourth floor, we arrive to our first stop. The man exits, leaving 23 more people to go. By chance, I glance over at the panel and notice that 23 floors are illuminated. This clearly was not the express line.
And away we go. Doors close once again. Nobody speaks, everyone staring at either the lit buttons that were pressed, or glaring at the overhead digital display telling us what floors we are passing, or straight ahead at the dandruff lying on the shoulder of the person crammed in front of them, or staring at their shoes, as if this would be a good time to clean them. At last, we’ve landed on the next floor. Without fail, the person disembarking is located at the farthest point in the back. At this point, everyone in the elevator must evacuate in order for this person to exit. It is a relief however, because it gives everyone the opportunity to breathe, as most have held their breath the entire ride. Once deplaned, all passengers reenter and our journey continues.
Doors close, everyone sucks in their breath, not a peep is heard, and suddenly, the sound of silence is broken by everyone’s biggest fear. The dreaded cough. There is no escape. Thoughts run wild in your head, Is it Covid? Does she have allergies? Do I get out at the next floor? Mask on, Mask off? How about covering your mouth? and the thoughts go on and on until thankfully, the elevator stops and the door opens. The entire elevator empties out except for the disease ridden cougher. And there we all are on the 10th floor, all awaiting the arrival of the nest car going up. Unfortunately, the cars that land on the floor are jammed packed as well. Once again, strategic placement comes into play. Fighting for that last space is critical. All you want to do is get to your room. Nothing else matters. In the true New Yorker fashion, I throw myself into the car like a battering ram, pulling my wife along, and presto, floor 34 here I come. At long last, we have reached our destination. Exuberantly, we run to the room, only to find out that the key does not work.
Going Down?