Dontcha hate it when....
You are in the elevator at your office...and the doors have almost completely shut. And someone runs up and sticks their hand in to stop the closing doors and get on to your elevator. URGH! This happens several times a day to me at my office. And it's not like there's one elevator for them to get on...in our elevator bank, there are 8 elevators!! Come on!
3 Comments:
This happens to me on a daily basis, and I have never understood the practice. When there are 8 elevators, how long could it possibly be before the next one? I should note that I also do not run for trains or cram myself needlessly into subway cars. I'd rather just wait than travel with my face in someone's angry armpit.
what exactly constitutes an "angry armpit?" I that a midwest term?
Oh, I know an angry armpit! Trust me, I'm short. It's the kind of pit that can physically push you back with fumes alone. I made the mistake of going to see the 4th of july fireworks on the FDR one year (my first year in NYC, I was naive). And it was still 90-something degrees when the sun went down. It was a hot mess...and I found myself sandwiched in between a gaggle of kids and a Jamaican man with dreds down to his knees. There was some Angry armpit going on.
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