Hi folks... For those of you who haven't read Harddrive Detritus before, it's an occassional feature of this blog, where I search on my harddrive for silly things that I have written and abandoned.
This particular bit of detritus is from January 29, 2002
A true story.
So I got in the elevator the other day to ride up to the office to see if my friend was there and if he was going to class. It was 1:20, fifteen minutes before class.
As I arrived on the sixth floor, said friend entered the elevator with another friend. Assuming that said friend was going to class, I jovially rode the elevator down to the ground floor with them. Upon arriving at the ground floor, “George” informed me that indeed he was not going to class, but to drop off an essay.
“Bollocks!” I exclaimed. “Then I’m going back to the office to check my email.” I then pressed the sixth floor button and rode on up.
Upon reaching the top floor, I exited and checked my email for approximately eight minutes. It was then 1:30 and I decided that indeed I would go to class. I exited the office and entered the elevator. Once the elevator had started descending, I realized that I had left my bag in the office. I exclaimed and frantically pressed the button for level four.
Once the doors opened I thought to myself, “Now that was silly! I can’t get the elevator to switch directions.” I let the door close and began to descend again.
I then realized that I could have walked up the two flights of stairs, pressed the button for the elevator, fetched my bag and saved a minute or two. So, I pressed the buttons for floors number three and six, expecting to then run up the three flights of stairs and grab my bag in time for the elevator to reach the sixth floor.
To my dismay, the elevator had passed the third floor already and it descended to the ground floor.
At the ground floor, a disheveled man entered and pressed floor number four. Pretending that I had come up from the basement, I pressed number six again.
We stood in silence. The man sneezed once.
At the third floor, the door opened. The man exited the elevator without realizing what floor he was on and I was too embarrassed to tell him. The closing door muffled his cry of realization. “Hey! This isn’t m—.”
I silently rode up to the fourth, and then sixth floors, collected my satchel, and then returned to the ground floor to head to class.