The Trouble With Elevators

Elevator usage is a simple process. You do it. Your parents do it. Even a child can do it. An elevator comes, you hop on, you ride for a few floors and you shuffle out. In and out, anti-social and methodically identical each time - a process built for efficiency and speed. There are no known reasons to improve the ride or prolong the elevator experience any longer than necessary. However, some people - for a variety of reasons - do. On most elevators (except for hospitals, where we expect that doctors are smart enough to figure it out), there's only one way in and one way out, so I speculate that elevator designers figured that people would get the concept. Unfortunately, THAT is a misconception....

The Door Holders. They hear footsteps a mile away...a car door slam in the next county...voices of people approaching from nowhere. Upon hearing these sounds, real or imagined, the Door Holders feel compelled to earn their title: they hold the door. They hold the door until one of two things happens. Either (1) "the door has been open too damn long" siren blares for the city to hear or (2) the elevator aborts and changes direction on you. It's usually after those incidents that the Door Holders look at their watch, laugh sheepishly in mock embarrassment, "Gee, I hope you weren't catching a train."

The Door Talkers. Door talkers are usually found going floor to floor. It's a species found primarily in large companies on multiple floors. The Door Talker will break off from a group of "talk-ees" to enter the elevator (or to get out of the elevator). However, using a technique very similar to the Door Holder, they will stand half in the compartment and half out while continuing a conversation with a "talk-ee" which detains everyone else in the elevator. (There’s a way to stop Door Talkers: get behind them and swat anything they might be holding out of their arms and into the elevator lobby. When they jump out to catch it, the doors close. Folders and books work great, small children and open containers do not.)

The Door Closers. They are the Don Rickles of elevator riders. They are the exact opposite of the Door Holders. They are the irritants that allow the door to slide shut right in your face when you are no more than two feet outside the elevator. Instant nose job! Added irritation is your arms full of paperwork and/or several varieties of briefcases and portfolios. This action is usually accompanied by a snide smile and a "gee that's too bad" cocking of the head.

The Contortionists. This is the only characteristic which is exclusive to very chivalrous males. Contortionists earned their name because they were trained as little boys to always let women exit any room, compartment or area ahead of them. With this traditional belief firmly planted in their brains, you will witness the Contortionists bend their bodies in ways only Gumby could. A Contortionist can be in the rear of an elevator filled with women and he will lunge for the button panel - one finger stretched to the "Door Open" button and the opposite arm blocking the door. This is an admirable gesture to be sure, but one that usually requires the exiting woman to crawl under arms and over legs...a very tough task in a straight-skirted business suit.

The Hummers and Whistlers. Hummers and Whistlers are happy and they want you to be happy. We should be happy for them, but they make you pray for that sleepy elevator Muzack. They're usually tinny, off-key, very loud and almost always deface music that means something sentimental to you. I doubt The Beatles meant for "Back In The U.S.S.R." to be hummed or whistled. The same goes for "Jail House Rock."

The Genteel Chatterers. Hello! How are you? What a lovely coat... Do you work at the bank? Is that a perm or are you naturally curly? I have had the worst day. Nice purse. The carpet in this elevator needs to be replaced. Don't you hate this music? I'm taking tap dancing lessons. Are you related to Joe Shmoe? You look like him. Did you hear about the company president? I'm a Pisces so I love the water. Governor – oh sorry – President Bush was spotted near the city park I heard. Beautiful earrings, are they new? What's the matter, cat got your tongue?

The Redneck Chatterers. Hey! How you been? You get that coat at Wal-mart? It’s real nice. You still workin’ at the plant? What did you do to your hair? My day sucked. The carpet in this elevator looks like what’s in my dog pen. Where the Hell did this music come from? I'm taking welding lessons. You related to Jeb Schmoe? You look like him. Did you hear about the manager of the Handi-Mart? I'm a Capricorn so that means I wear a cap and I love corn. Elvis was spotted near the city park I heard. Why do you wear three earrings? What's the matter, you deaf or somethin’?

The Statues. They’re self-explanatory. They don't move - especially not for you. You get in and they refuse to move from their self-appointed spot. People are forced to move around them to find a place to stand...as if they were expressionless maypoles. These are the strong, silent types that you can't quite get to...and certainly can't get to move without the aid of a bouncer.

The Button Pushers. Impatience happens in everyone, but apparently these people can't get where they're going fast enough. Button Pushers have not figured out that once the up, down or floor number button has been illuminated, that's all it takes. Punching it several thousand times more does not make the doors open any faster increase the speed of the elevator's arrival. It only makes your finger sore.

The “Foreigners.” This term does not define race or personal origin or mean from "somewhere." They are foreigners in a building and/or preoccupied with other thoughts. They do not know where they are going. They are not aware of what is happening around them. Foreigners can be identified by several behavioral actions. They:
- punch several buttons because they don't know exactly which floor is their destination.
- punch the wrong button above or below the actual button they need.
- get on the up elevator when they want the down one.
- stand twiddling their thumbs when the door finally opens to the floor they desire.

The Fragrants. Stronger than an industrial plant, more powerful than a loaded skunk, and unfortunately aren't limited to one species. The Fragrants either carry odors on themselves or carry things with odors. Bags of fast food, newly manicured nails, wet leather binders, Indian food on the breath, baths in cheap cologne, chain smokers who've been locked in a car, skin damp with perspiration, Final Net hair spray, commuters fresh from gassing up the car...might be bearable individually, but combined, contribute to the diverse yet nauseating aroma found in most elevators. These far-from-understated smells linger and there's no place to sprinkle Carpet Fresh.

Well, that’s it! Now I realize that these scenarios are grossly exaggerated, and there have been many times where I’ve been a less than gracious, if not obnoxious, elevator patron. But next time you're in an elevator, whether it's Sears Tower or Sears Roebuck, remember these people - and you might be taking the stairs. Twenty-five flights looks shorter every day.

Welcome to Possum Holler, Pearland

As if my dogs were not obnoxious enough, we have a possum hiding out in our fence. Not just any possum, but a MAMA possum. With babies. Before you get all "awww how cute and sweet," on me, just stop. It's a huge rat. Yes, a marsupial one, but a rat nonetheless. And I know it eats wood roaches but for them, I have Raid (I know - not very much in line with my environmental blog).

Our dogs, who between them have less than half a brain, think that Godzilla has invaded our backyard. To hear them bark, they've found Osama Bin Laden. And while he's always had the size and strength to jump our six-foot fence, our Irish Setter Zach never realized his super-canine abilities. Until Mama Possum came to town. Now, not only can our neighbors see his huge red head atop the fence line, but they can hear him in Dallas. Or at least Conroe.

We have a battery-operated "Rat Zapper" (isn't suburban life fun?) designed to let rats and field mice know that we have no intention of sharing our deck or hot tub with them. So far, it's nabbed two of the baby possums. Sad I know, but as Darwin outlined in his vast chronicles, it's survival of those with the ability to landscape. In my efforts to be an Earth-friendly species neighbor, we bought some non-toxic "Critter Repellent" that, using the distilled scent of possum predators, hopefully drives our little furry squatters to the yard of another family.

Unless they all learn how to pull weeds - then they can stay.

Totally Lost in "Lost"

I am a woman obsessed. With the TV show, "Lost." Sure, sure - when I was in college, I was into "All My Children" and "General Hospital" as much as the next co-ed. But I never taped them. I never went to websites about the show or the characters. I didn't make sure I was home from a fun evening out to see the show first-hand.

But I do with "Lost." I need spoiler alerts. I need to know why Ben and Charles Widmore are at odds. I need to know Desmond and Penny will be together always. I need to know why Hurley doesn't lose any weight. I need to know the cute labrador retriever won't be killed by the smoke monster. It's frightening. Not the show - ME!?!

I've instructed my husband to alert my friends if I ever try to post a theory on a "Lost" fan website. It's for my own good. Help me before I get lost again...

Is He "Green" With Envy or Am I Making Him Ill?

Ever since I purchased a hybrid vehicle, my husband says I'm turning into an "environmental wacko." I've never considered myself green...except for my eyes, which according to my grandmother will forever exempt me from having to wear green on St. Pat's Day. I'm not vegetarian; I don't wear hemp clothing. And let's face it - I really didn't buy the vehicle with some higher purpose of Earth-saving in mind. I bought it because gas prices are abominable. But it's nice to think I'm contributing in some small fashion.

With Earth Day occuring this past week, we've been bombarded with "how to be green" messages in the media. Many of these tips and tidbits are pretty easy to implement, so I decided we should: unplugging small appliances and chargers when not in use; using fewer lights; turning up the thermostat as much as we can stand it; shorter showers and "every-other" flushes. We recycle via our subdivision-provided green plastic bin, which I think may someday end up in a landfill itself. I have a cloth grocery bag; yes, just one usually handy for short trips. Until my cats stop using the litter box, I still have a lot of use for those nasty plastic bags. So I'll see if I'm still hugging the earth in six months, when Al Gore's "We Can Do It" marketing campaign runs out of budget.

All I can do is try every day. So I'm doing my part and nagging (excuse me, "encouraging") my husband to do his part as well. As for the "environmental wacko" comment, I'd like to state for the record that I had never HEARD of a compact fluorescent light bulb until we shared the same home. He brought that bit of environmentalism into our marriage as well as a dimmer switch on every compatible outlet. Like Kermit said, "It Ain't Easy Being Green."