Elevators, man. Elevators

Elevators make me happy. They mean that I don't have to walk up stairs. Cause really, walking up stairs is terrible. I mean, awesome for your calves, thighs, and butt, but I life on the 16th floor. That'd be a ridiculous amount of steps to walk up. I'd probably die. But elevators also let me meet new and interesting people all the time.

Like the Italian man that looked as if he was incredibly disappointed that the NY Marathon was cancelled. How did I know he was Italian? Well that's an easy one! Mostly because of the accent. But he also looked a lot like someone on the Italian Olympic swimming team. Anywho. The real reason I know that he was Italian is because I asked him if he was supposed to run in the race and he responded in Italian. Only Italian. Saying something that I'm pretty sure meant that he only spoke Italian. And then I didn't know what to say. So I said "Ah...Okay...fwaeliunf." The awoefn was a bunch of nondescript sounds that spilled out of my mouth. I'm pretty sure I left that elevator experience with the Italian Man thinking that I'm an Idiot American.

Then. On Election Day. Woo. After buying some seed beads so that I could finish my design project while watching the craziness, I rode the elevator with a man and a woman. Unattached to one another. The man asked if we had voted and I said yes. Then he proceeded to talk about how his dad, who's probably 90 years old by the way, put on his suspenders and his bow tie and went to the polls to vote. Made a super cute image in my head. I even added a little hat to the man's head and made the pants high waters. precious. But after the man got off the elevator I realized the woman was being very quiet. Then she spoke. And she was Australian. And hilarious. She told me how she didn't think that they would let her vote in America. And I told her she should try anyway. But it was a nice reminder of home and all my Australian friends, one in particular.

But really. The best was today. I rode the elevator with Elvis. If he was alive today, 50 years old, with blond highlights. I wasn't completely convinced though. Not until he got off the elevator and while the doors were closing to take me up to work I head him begin to sing. And not just any song. A very Elvis sounding song. Not one that I've ever heard before, which means that this new Elvis has been working on some new material. And let me just say, I think there are going to be a lot of hits.

I've also found that elevator rides give you just enough time to catch your breath. Cause everyone walks fast in the city. Well everyone except everyone that forces you to practically stop cause they're moving so slow. But we wont count them because they bug me. Anyway. You walk so quickly so that by the time you get to where you're going you're on the verge of embarrassing yourself with panting and, dare I say, sweating. Don't worry though, I never sweat. I'm a lady. So while you're on the elevator you can grab a swig of water and fan yourself every so gracefully, since you're a lady too.

So take advantage of elevator rides. And if you're in the real world and not NYC and you only have to ride a couple of floors up. Take advantage of it quickly. Very quickly.

Nakemiin.

Kim.