Every day I have to take the elevator. Not just once mind you. Multiple times. It pains me greatly and no, that is not sarcasm you sense…but desperate whimpers of torment and fear. I think I can juuust make it down to the first floor without any interruptions…IF I chose my timing right. Alas, there is no such a time.
I stand in the elevator waiting for my floor and then am interrupted with an abrupt chime and halt of movement. My heart stops, the doors open and I see before me, another human! One such human that is preparing to walk into the small, tiny, cramped elevator that I’ve become vulnerable to and stand beside me.
The doors close swiftly, and I am now standing beside a man with a beard and wiry eyebrows. He smells of strong cologne and musky odors. We are awkwardly staring at our own reflections in the shiny doors. I fixate upon my face, admiring the rosy cheeks that have just appeared and wonder if this stranger of a man is looking at me. I after all, don’t want to look in his direction to give him an opening. I relocate my stare at the crack in the door so he doesn’t think I’m vain and then realize, this man is beginning to open his mouth. And he’s looking at me. This stranger is going to try and do small talk, aren’t they? Good god, please don’t do it. We don’t need to make this worse. Just look away and they will take the cue.
My averted face and body doesn’t signal the “don’t notice me, I’m awkward and closed off” cues that I had hoped, and this stranger begins to compliment my shoes and my dress, while awkwardly staring upon my body as if they are a judge on Runway Model show. I simulate a smile and say “thanks”, while mumbling about how comfortable flats are.
My sweat glands rejoice and release perspiration upon my now, excessively dewy skin. Is it hot in here? I wonder when I shall be free of this claustrophobic space and the germs this breathing creature is cascading upon me. Alas, with the steady drop of my pen, the doors open and he bends to gentlemanly relinquish my fallen pen, slowly sauntering away, grinning widely and staring at me as if we just became best friends.
I wait a moment to ensure he is well ahead of me and then make my move out the door, into the bustle of the first-floor hallway, surrounded by people staring at the calendar memos and coffee lids. Freedom. For now…until I have to return…return to the small unknown box of calamities and anguish. An unsettling reality of life for those who realize small spaces, germs and small talk are three things that should never, ever go together!
