I’m the kind of person who needs a little bit of routine, but a monotonous pattern of life can put me into a depression. As they say, “variety is the spice of life.” (Obviously, the caveat is that the variety should be something positive.) Currently, my depression has me feeling in a monotonous rut…or does the rut have me in a depression? The dog chases its tail on that one. That is all to say…
For work, I park in a parking garage. I arrive to work early and purposely park on a higher up floor where I get a good spot to better protect my car. It’s not that I drive anything fancy, I just want to protect my car and there are too many people who swing open their doors like they’re Gloria Swanson and then there’s a giant dent on your door.
So today, I park my car and enter the area where the elevator and stairs are. I take the elevator, because I’ve had pneumonia 4 times and now have Long Covid. My lungs are very scarred and I’m taking the damn elevator. Where I’m at, there is still a mask mandate, and it is required to wear a mask in the elevator. I put my mask on and enter the elevator, where I’m alone – which is usual because again, I get to work earlier than the typical start time.
What follows happened in the blink of a beautiful mind’s eye.
The cold, sterile elevator is taking me down and it stops, but I’m not on the ground floor. I look at the number before the door opens and it says 2. The door opens and two un-masked good ol’ boys are standing there. (Quick sidebar for people not in the midwest or probably the south, but good ol’ boys are basically camo- and trucker hat-wearin’ guys that are never meanin’ no harm.) This is an employee garage, so I know they have to be employees. We look at each other and after a slight pause the older of the two says, “Go ahead,” and gestures to let me out. I’ve already looked at the number inside the elevator and know that it said 2; I look at the number on the wall next to the guy to confirm that I am indeed on the 2nd floor. Since you, the reader, are not aware, there is no outside exit on the second floor in this garage. You have two rational choices: you can exit on the 1st floor and walk around where the cars are driving to exit on the opposite side of the garage to avoid walking around the garage outside, or you can exit on the ground floor taking you directly outside. I’m taking the elevator down from my car to go to work, why would I want to exit on the 2nd floor? These guys are entering the elevator to go to work, so why would they think I would want to get out two floors before my stop? I pause and think, maybe I go with the tide and get out and walk down, because they aren’t masked. But no, because a), my lungs are scarred and I’m taking the elevator for a reason and b), we’re only on the 2nd floor. We would reach the ground floor at the same time, and then that’s weird and awkward. So instead I say, “…I’m…still going down…to the ground floor,” and then they get in.
I can’t stop thinking if that was their first time on an elevator. Did they think I was stuck and was waiting for someone to let me out at any floor – didn’t matter which one? Or maybe that we had do-si-do each other to get on? Can you imagine how exhausting that would be? “Fuck it, I’m taking the stairs. If I have to do-si-do Hank in Finance again, I’ll slap someone. Don’t look at me like that, Jean, he doesn’t break eye contact and you know it haunts your dreams.”
Beats all you ever saw.