I get into the elevator and press my family's floor number. As the doors are closing, I see a man hurrying down the hall performing a cross between a speed walk and what looks like the "Thriller" zombie dance in a sleepy attempt to shuffle in before the doors close.
And then, disaster.
I would like to state that what happened next was completely involuntary and probably the result of some early childhood elevator trauma. Or maybe not. Maybe we are all guilty of this random act of heartlessness. Follow me on this one: You see someone trying to catch an elevator. You don't want to wait for them. What is your gut instinct? If you're me, you start pressing the "Doors Close" button. This is normal, is it not? Don't we all want to get on with our elevator rides without the annoyance of the automatic doors returning to their open position, watching them stay open for what feels like an eternity and then FINALLY moving back into place? Doesn't the elevator understand we have places to be, which is why we opted for the elevator over the stairs in the first place? Wouldn't this man understand that I had been dreaming about this brunch for weeks and no hotel elevator would stand between me and my plate of hummus? I decided he would. So I did what any normal person would have done in this situation.
I pressed the "Doors Close" button.
Everything would have been perfectly fine. Except the man in question was able to make it into the elevator on time. Curses! He forced open the doors, and smiled at me.
"Did he just smile at me?" I thought, "Why would he do that? Does he not understand a moment ago I wanted the elevator to leave him behind?"
Then it dawned on me, he thought I had been pressing the "Doors Open" button.
He thought I was trying to help him.
"Oh no. Dear elevator doors, please close. Please close right now. Close before he learns the truth! Please?! CLOSE!" But it was too late. The elevator didn't move. The stupid automatic doors stayed open and immobile for what felt like an eternity and a half and the man grew impatient. He went to push the "Doors Close" button and became confused. He could have sworn I had pressed the exact same button just a few-- --And with that he discovered the true function of the button I had pressed before his entry.
He glared my way.
I wanted to die.
Two floors later, I sheepishly exited the elevator, wishing I had taken the stairs.
All in a day's work.
