A chronically broken down elevator causes Ali to philosophize about the saying “we’re only human”.
Today, I’m going to discuss the phrase “we’re only human” with the help of a specific example involving yours truly. Check the name of this website and I think you’ll see just how appropriate a move this is.
I love my apartment for many reasons, but the location is definitely at the top of that list. I’m ten steps away from the fitness center, five steps away from the trash chute, and seven steps away from the elevator, which takes me directly to the parking garage where Cordelia (that’s my car) sits pretty, along with the laundry room.
Hello ideal, nice to meet you.
When I first moved in, I had a huge crush on said elevator because I was able to carry big armfuls of stuff and walk just seven steps to my destination.
Such was the case on day number two of living on my own. I was heading down to grab the last of my stuff when the elevator stopped a few floors below me to pick up another passenger, and down we went.
Except that we didn’t.
We both felt it. That moment when you know something ain’t right. In this case, that something ain’t right translated to this elevator ain’t moving.
“Um, are we stuck?” I asked my soon-to-be-favorite-person-because-he-had-his-cell-phone-and-I-didn’t.
Fast forward five months. You’re smart people; what do you think happened?
Only this time, I was older. And wiser. I had my phone. I didn’t have Gary, but I had RV (who, until I read his business card he gave me, thought was named Harvey). And RV had his laptop, and RV’s laptop had Star Wars. Luckily, the elevator call button was working this time (though being a company located in Chicago doesn’t help two people stuck in an elevator in Los Angeles, thankyouverymuch) and we were out in a swift hour. Also this time, my family got the play-by-play since I had my phone with me. But like last time, they still laughed.
Now? Now I take the elevator on the opposite side of the building. Now I do my laundry at home (and save a latte’s worth of coins). Now I give the elevator (which, a month later, currently has an “out of order” sign taped to it) the finger.
What? I’m only human.
Photo Credits
“Last Night I Dreamed of Elevators” Based on a photo by toastforbrekkie @ Flickr.com. Creative Commons. Some Rights Reserved.
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