Hell in a Handbasket!

It's a pretty common phrase that we hear (or see on bumper stickers on cars that belong to people who seem to think that everyone in the world is dying to know what their opinions are on all of the world's most serious issues such as presidential elections, global warming, and eagle scouts (actually those are a completely different breed of bumper sticker applicators, but that's a totally different post.  Or at least a third level of parenthetical goodness.  And I usually prefer to never go more than two deep.  If you have a hard time keeping up with how multi-terraced parenthetical statements work, watch Inception... or re-take algebra 2)) nowadays.  Usually it's spewed out after a discussion about drugs, immorality, wars, starving children, or something of the like.  But what about the more alarming issues like young children who cuss in movies (it is funny, though, isn't it?  If you don't agree with me on that one, watch Hardball, yes the one with Keanu Reaves, and tell me it doesn't make you laugh), terrible drivers, and inappropriate oversharing on Facebook?

There are a lot of serious causes for concern in the world these days.  This post isn't about any of the above woes of the world.  It is instead about an entirely different issue that has been troubling me a lot lately: poor elevator etiquette.  What has this world come to that people no longer seem to understand how you behave on or around an elevator?  It's as if parents have stopped teaching their kids the rules of vertical transportation.  I still remember when my mom explained to me the ways of the human version of one of those tubes at the bank.  Apparently I'm alone in that.  So in order to do my part as a concerned citizen and a member of this troubled world, I have included a brief explanation of how to properly behave when playing the part of the boarder as well as that of the exiter (that is exiter with an I, not to be confused with Exeter which is the fourth oldest of the constituent colleges of Oxford having opened in 1314.  It has common rooms like in the Harry Potter series, and in recent years has competed on an intercollegiate level in sports such as fencing, rugby, basketball, darts, croquet, and wine-tasting.  I kid you not.  You can learn more here)



The Boarder
When you're waiting to get on an elevator, you stand back from the door but still in front of it so as to be easily seen. This helps to establish a good common understanding between everyone waiting to get on and everyone on board as to who all is going to be involved in the marvelously intricate operation.  But more important that the visibility issue (at least while we're still discussing the boarder.  This does become critical when considering the exiter) is the standing back issue.  There isn't much that upsets me more than someone I like to call the barger.  You know, the guy who stands with his nose pressed to the door then bolts in as soon as the doors open.  That's not how it works!  It's just like public transportation; people that are getting off get off, then people getting on get on.  You must wait at a safe distance until it is clear that all who intend to disembark have done so, and then you may advance forward.  When you get on before people exit it's as if you're walking forward with one of those big SWAT crowd control shields that no one can get past. So for everyone's sake, stand back and in clear view, wait, then enter.

The exiter
The key to exiting is all about being clear with your intentions.  For starters, don't dawdle.  If the boarder is practicing proper decorum, he is waiting for you to get the heck off.  If you don't move quickly enough, he will assume that you are not exiting on this floor and will begin to advance.  If you then make your move late, we encounter the same SWAT shield mentioned above.  Only this time it's your fault.

Next step.  Don't hide in the corner.  Like I said earlier, maximum visibility is essential.  If it's one of those elevators where the door isn't the whole front wall, but it instead kinda jogs to one side or the other, stop going to the damn corner.  Once again, a proper boarder will check to make sure no one is exiting and then proceed forward.  If you're creepily lurking in the shadows trying to hide beneath the surveillance camera that doesn't exist, then they probably won't see you and will begin to advance.  What does that give us? Yet another traffic jam at the door that gets credited solely to you.  In summary, stand in plain view and get your butt moving.

To put it simply, elevators are a wonderful technology.  Yes they can be slow and sometimes inexplicably stinky, but they are a joyous alternative to stairs for our lazy generation.  It is a technology that has improved lives the world around, but the deterioration of common decency in today's society is something we encounter on elevators every day.  I am here to make it known that the only thing that separates us from the animals is the manner by which we magically ascend and descend our enormous towers in which we conduct business with people all over the world and play card games without having to actually handle a deck of cards.  That is, except for service animals.  It doesn't separate us from them because they ride the elevators with us.  So for the sake of civilization, have some manners.

The worst day of my life

This is the aforementioned first encounter I ever had with writing for pleasure. I wrote this when I was sixteen or seventeen. I had to try about 50 different email and password combinations to get back onto my old myspace profile (ya know, from back in the day when that was the only social media site) to find it. But here it is. Enjoy!

The worst day of my life came crashing down upon me like an avalanche. Utter pain and devastation can't begin to describe the total torture and suffering I experienced. There were no escapes or options, just dead ends and traps. I searched and searched my whole world to pick up the scattered chips of my life, but they were simply out of reach. I entered a state of depression that seemed inescapable. Nowhere to turn for answers. I knew exactly the problem, but a solution was nonexistent.

Yes, yes... my hand no longer fit in a pringles can. How on earth was I supposed to deal with this catastrophic situation. Once you pop, You can't stop! Everyone knows that! But now I was forced to stop. That, my friend, is redefining the verge of breaking the laws of physics. Tipping the can is out of the picture, because anyone knows that once you tip that sucker past about 3 degress from vertical, those oh-so-tasty crisps of magnificence are everywhere. Asking for help is nowhere near being an option because someone that can successfully delve into the nether regions of a can of pringles is bound to try one, and as we know already (because it is the main source of this trifling predicament) once you pop... you can't stop. So BOOM! There goes the whole can if I solicit the help of a now uncontrollable glutton. As you see. I am trapped. Am I now destined to spend the rest of my munching life crunching down doritos, and cheetos, and chili-cheese fritos (Isn't is amazing how the entire chip world peacefully settled on a beautiful rhyming scheme?)?

Oh no, my fine, fortunate, feather-fingered friend. I will have no such doom. Give me death before a world without pringles and that whimsical bodiless man on the can. I cry my plea now for BIGGER CANS (hoorah)... and thus bigger chips???? Oh I must not let myself get so excited when the hope supporting my jubilation is so perilously unfounded. But just imagine the magical world that would ensue if we were to break those fiendish bonds of the three-inch demon and spawn a utopia of four-inch splendor!

Right now my behemoth bear-claw buddies... WE UNITE! Make a difference. Envision that dream I call tomorrow, and make a difference. Embrace the struggles you endure everyday of your life; snapping crayons every time you sit down for an enjoyable coloring session, bending spaghetti noodle forks every time you endeavor to cut a firm piece of over-cooked pork, losing indefinitely, coins between the seats in the car, crushing small creatures every time you try to so gently caress their beautiful furs. Remember all of the pain these experiences, and many others, have brought you, and MAKE A DIFFERENCE!