Shafted

To begin I must apologize for my long leave from this sanctuary of creative freedom and speech. I have been quietly eking out my existence in our dear capital city. I am happy to report the semester is over. The cruelty that is higher education is in hibernation until the 31st at which time the beast will awaken and summer secession begins. How I love new cruelty.

Now my dear lovely and loyal readers I have stories to tell. So here I am and here it begins.

In an effort to lessen the normal pains of a harsh Monday morning I had decided to place some strategic hours at work on a Sunday. I had an employee coming in to assist me later in the day but for now I was at work, early, alone, and at peace. I began my hours with a review of the next days work load. I prepared a cart and loaded it with equipment I would need later. I then took the elevator to the 2nd floor to work on a class room, as I stepped into the elevator a strange feeling fell over me. In an OCD panic I frantically searched for my keys, phone, and ipod before the doors closed. The last inch of lobby light squeezed from my sight a stray thought popped in my head and I thought "it would really suck if I lost my keys down the elevator shaft." The doors opened I gripped my keys tight in my hand and I went to work. On my rounds I recalled at least two people that I knew off that had lost their keys down the elevator shaft and again I thought "it would really suck if I lost my keys down the elevator shaft." The work continued and my mind turned to other meaningless things as it so often does while I perform repetitious tasks on par with those only enjoyed by research primates and then rewarded with a banana. My missions took me repeatedly from floor to floor and back again. I was in Elevator #2 organizing a media cart while shuffling papers and drinking a coke. I reached into my pocket for my phone to check the time. In that instance I removed my phone, my keys, and some change and placed it on the cart. I checked the time put the phone on the cart, the elevator doors opened and I pushed my cart. The elevator had not leveled out with the lobby floor. The front wheels caught the raised edge. The rear wheels lifted and dropped and in that instance my keys leapt in a perfect arc, skated in the air in slow motion pausing only long enough for my brass keys to grab a ray of light and sparkle as gravity clawed them from there height and plunged them downward towards the abyss that lays between the elevator and the main floor. My keys did not have a chance. This wad of composite metal that usually weighs one side of my pants down. This conglomerate measuring three inches in diameter magically flattens itself to gracefully slide between a one and a half inch gap without touching either side. It was a dive that would make an Olympic swimmer cry. The only sound I heard was a tiny "plink" as they struck the bottom of the shaft. Then I realized it really does suck when your keys fall down the elevator shaft.



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The exciting part of the story ends there. I had a spare set hidden in my office. I had an employee coming in later. I had an elevator crew retrieve my keys the next day. The story gets a happy ending but my pride is forever wounded and I now have an enemy for life. Elevator #2 you better watch your back, or your doors, or the buttons on your inside cause I refuse to take this kind of abuse from any hydraulic device... well except maybe a low rider... gotta keep it real viva la raza!