Monday, January 1, 2018

Closing the Door on 2017.

     I hear a lot of people saying things like, “2017 had it’s ups and downs.” But for me, 2017 ended neither up or down, but stuck. Literally. In an elevator.
     For 30 minutes.
     I had just taken the elevator down to the garage when I realized I had forgotten my car keys. Again. Sensing my wife’s annoyance, I assured her it was no big deal. “I’ll be back down in 2 minutes.” But Otis, the god of elevators, had other plans for me.
     I did not panic. Partly because I knew it would not help me get out of the elevator any quicker, but mostly because there was a camera in the elevator observing my every move. I was pretty sure whoever was watching was laughing at me anyway, and I didn’t want to give them any more fodder. I also didn’t need any video floating around out there of me freaking out or picking my nose, so I played it real cool. I was able to frequently check my look in the mirror, and I’m pretty sure I pulled it off.  I was also pleased it was a pretty good hair day. And thankfully, I was alone.  It would’ve been an even more annoying experience if I had to deal with someone else's anxiety, or make small talk with some stranger for half an hour.
     I tried to make good use of my involuntary alone time, and pondered one burning question. Which is less worse: ending the year getting stuck in an elevator, or starting the year getting stuck in an elevator? While both suck, I’m leaning towards getting stuck in an elevator at the beginning of the year. That way it’s over with. Onward and upward, or downward. Getting stuck in an elevator on the last day of the year doesn’t leave you much time for something really good to happen before the year is over.  It just leaves you feeling like, “Well, that was a shitty way to end the year.” If it happens on January 1, you have a whole year to undo it.
     After 30 minutes deep in thought, the Ft. Lauderdale Fire Dept. came to my rescue and pried the doors open, so I didn’t have time to fully explore which is worse. But one thing’s for sure. Next New Year’s Eve, I’m taking the stairs.

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