Wednesday, September 21, 2005

some serious lazy

So I’m walking towards the elevators when I notice a woman is already standing there waiting. She’s pushed the down arrow button, so I think cool. I don’t have to push the public elevator button crawling with germs and other noxious particles naked to the eye. I stop and talk to a friend at her desk which is en route to said elevators. We chat for probably a whole two minutes, all the while the elevator still hadn’t come.

I finish up the chat, walk the rest of the short walk to the elevator lobby and wait alongside this woman. This woman looked like she’d been waiting for 15 minutes for the crummy elevator. We wait together some more…and some more.

At last, the bell chimes, the light lights, and the doors finally open. We take our custom-sensitive positions inside the elevator; me on the far right, she on the far left.* I push “1”. The woman pushes “13”.

We picked up the elevator on the 14th floor.

This woman waited for 17 minutes to go down ONE floor. And it isn’t as if the door to the stairwell was clear across the building from where she was standing to take the elevator either. Oh no. The door to the stairwell is literally right next to the elevator door.

I could even see taking the elevator to go UP one flight, as walking up stairs tends to be a little more tiring than going down. Going UP one flight in an elevator is still pretty darn lazy, I mean come on now. But oh no. We were going down, kids. One flight down. That is the kind of lazy where you want to pay someone to push on your lungs in 2-second intervals all day so you can keep breathing.

Now all you sympathizers and nifty thinkers out there may say in response “maybe she has physical limitations and that’s why she can’t take the stairs”. And maybe you’re right. But when she exited the elevator, and the doors closed, all I could think was…that is some serious lazy. Because that’s the swift-to-judge kinda gal I am.

* One of these days, I'd like to conduct a social experiment. Only two people in an elevator, me and the other guy. And I stand so close to him that he could feel my breath on his arm. And I'll hum something obnoxious like Bolero. Maybe I'll just stare at him the whole time too. See if he does anything. Okay, so to recap:

stand real close, breathe on his arm, hum Bolero, and stare. Yeah.
Oh I HATE that! As rvidenced by my rant at Not to plug my blog, I just remembered that I had written on it too.

Seriously, people, learn to walk.

Another pet peeve: Chicago, Water Tower Place. My mom is legitimately handicapped and we can only get from one floor to another via elevator. There are escalators. Yet lots of people feel the need to take the elevators one floor up or down and we would always wait, oh, about 17 years, for the elevator. I could have taken the escalator up, browsed, and bought something in our intended store by the time the elevator got there.
That drives me nuts too. I pride myself on my laziness and have bad knees, and even I take the stairs in that situation (probably within 3 flights or so).

The funniest to me was at my old apartment, you'd see people clearly on their way to or from the gym who would take the elevator 2 flights or something.
g, that is funny!

and that is some serious laziness that even i, who gets attacks of the lazies, think is lazy.

the only thing i think is that maybe she was having one of those days where any more effort for anything would just put you over the edge, you know?
My question is why did you get on an elevator that took 17 minutes to get to your floor? Who KNOWS how long you'd be trapped inside!
Only you would think about singing Bolero to a total stranger!! I read your blogs and really do get a kick out of them. Thanks for sharing.
so the question is, how many flights of stairs could you have covered in the two mintues you were waiting?
actually, abel, that's not the question. shush. ;-)
Mary, I love the title "some serious lazy"! And I love this entry. You have a truly remarkable gift for storytelling (as evidenced, also, by the Oprah entry). And, what's more, you actually have good stories to tell... Can I be like you if I grow up?
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