November 25, 2003, 8 AM: I exit my apartment through my abusive door and lug my overstuffed work bag into the hallway.
Just as I approach the elevator, the doors open and a man who is the exact opposite of me steps off. This guy is the epitome of machismo: an unshaven slob who seems to have stains on every article of clothing he’s wearing. Yes, even his underwear.
He smiles at me and says “Hi.”
I muster up half a smile and I say hello, only it’s so mumbled and under-my-breath that it comes out more like this: “huh.” Only not so audible.
So, that’s that. I get into the elevator and I turn to hit the –
“Hellooo.” The manbeast speaks again. He’s just around the corner, out of my line of sight.
Is he talking to me?
His voice gets louder. “I said, Helloooo.”
No, he couldn’t be talking to me.
“Goddamn, people are weird.”
I close the elevator door and I start to think:
Wait a minute. I’m weird because I didn’t say hello? I smiled at him, didn’t I? Besides, I did say hello. He just didn’t hear it. I’M FUCKING SHY, OKAY? Stupid motherfucker. What if I just had a death in the family last night and I was too depressed to say hello? Would that make me weird? Think about what you’re going to say before you say it, you motherfucking beer-swilling-testosterone-spewing ape!
Whoa. “Testosterone-spewing”? Whose ass did I pull that one out of? Goddamn, I’m weird.
Hey Smivey, you pretty much described ME there! Well, the unshaven & stainey part of the description, anyway. The epitome of machismo I t’ain’t—the real, non-net persona of me is—I know, it shocks me too—way, way too damn goofy to ever pass for anything close to Alpha Male. My life is a constant search for new & exciting ways to exploit my own quirkiness.
Your story sort of reminds me of something similar that happened once at my church when I was a kid, only it involved this scary, scrawny hippie guy with coke-bottle glasses & messed-up teeth. He came up to me, presumably knowing *of* me through my parents, and said “hi, Jon”. I wasn’t trying to be an asshole or ignore the guy, I was just being a kid, eating lots of those crappy lemon-flavored sandwich cookies they had during Social Hour at church & running around the hallways and stuff.
After what must have been an hour, when most of that crazy kid energy had been worked out of me by running around with all the other kids and doing kid stuff, here’s this guy standing in the doorway again, and he says to me in this really condescending tone, “Let’s try this again: ‘HI, JON!’”.
Sometimes it’s sucky when you try to say ‘hi’ to somebody and it doesn’t work, but on the other hand, boy are people weirdoes sometimes.
uh huh.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Oh, man. Elevators – don’t get me started. They seem to be social hotspots. I have been chatted up more in and around elevators than at a watercooler.
And I feel the same way – I’m usually trying to get a hold of something heavy or awkward and manage the doors all by myself when someone is trying to make contact. Plus, I am also shy. Shy is good.
What’s not good is when you are trapped in the elevator with said gorilla and they feel you are a captive audience. :P
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