I just want to say thanks to that extra special building maintenance woman who saw me waiting in the lobby. We were both waiting for an elevator. There are a bank of six, and we were both apparently going up. You looked cranky, but I thought, hey, the weather's crappy, it's the middle of the day and you're probably all sleepy from eating a meth sandwich, so no big whoop.
The elevator doors opened and I followed you in, and that's when you said the sweetest thing ever: "this elevator is out of service". Then you promptly began to set up your maintenance station. You busy little bee. I bet if you had a stinger, you would have stung me in the face.
Wow. We had a whole 2 minutes to hang out staring at each other knowing that we're both going up, and you could've mentioned that you had mind control devices installed on the elevator that came down and that you were going to do some work on it. Instead, you kept it suspenseful. That was awesome. It was like a cliffhanger directed by Michael Bay. In fact, you looked like what Michael Bay must smell like after he's done shooting a real crappy movie with a bloated budget...something along the lines of "Pearl Harbor".
Thanks elevator-lady. I hope we get to share a car together sometime, so you can not remind me of anything enjoyable. You are the yin to my yang. Without you, I would have no awareness of light.
My only regret of our interaction was that I didn't think to take your picture so I could share it with the world. At least I have your gritty, rodent-like visage stored away in my memory banks, from which I can recall at a moment's notice. Thankfully, the quality of the image will fade, like so much cheap denim from Old Navy, as I'm looking at my pants now, and realizing that nothing gold can stay.
[queue Stevie Wonder song]
[queue screen credits for "The Outsiders]
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