I'm convinced there is a special circle of hell reserved for people that use the elevator to travel one floor. I'm not talking about people carrying babies, or in wheelchairs, or those toting oxygen tanks. No. People in those categories - I'm so damn impressed that they're out there at all, I think they're entitled to use whatever means of transportation they find most useful. I swear to God, I saw someone at an Elderly Commission meeting the other day hauling around a portable defibrillator. Jesus! I turned off my cell phone and everything.
That's not the point though - or the demographic I'm targeting. I'm talking about those people who run up to elevator as the doors are closing shrieking "HOLD IT!!!" and then cram themselves in, reach through and around all the other people who waited patiently and push...one floor. One floor? I feel guilty if I ride the elevator for three floors. You're really ok with this decision? You don't want to try again? Did your finger slip? No? Nice elastic waistband, by the way.
Ok, that was a little catty. But I'm not taking it back. National obesity epidemic notwithstanding, there are other reasons I can hate the One Floor Freeloaders. First of all, it wastes energy. It really does! And no, you don't get to make the 'well it was already going to my floor anyway' argument - I have never seen an elevator in my damn life that told button-pushers-flirting-with-laziness how many people were already inside, and what buttons they pushed. Second - you're spreading germs. Really. One more person getting all up in everyone else's space during the height of flu season...I have no data to back this up, but it makes sense to me. And third...in the event the elevator crashes to the floor, your presence will increase the speed at which the rest of us plummet to the basement. That probably doesn't matter either, but you at least could have avoided your own demise by taking the damn stairs.
If you are a One Floor Coaster, and you happen to read this...you probably don't care. I doubt I changed your mind at all. Just know this - in the event of an elevator emergency - say, for example, we get trapped in one, and we're stranded there for several days - the dude with the defibrillator and I are going to divide you up and eat you. What, like anyone will miss you? You're totally friends with that old lady who spends twenty minutes barking her lottery ticket requests at the convenience store clerk while I'm just trying to buy myself a bottle of orange juice. Hot Mess.
No comments:
Post a Comment