As I have mentioned before, the elevators in the building where I work are a culture in and of themselves. I don't really like it. I have been working on various ways to subvert that culture. As I have mentioned before, I hold the door for people sometimes, an act that elicits much rage from the other people on the elevator. And other times I refuse to face front or keep quiet. Humorous to be sure, but these acts lack imagination. Today I began my campaign to break away from the conventional a little.

There are four elevators in the elevator bank. One of them, I have noticed has developed an alarming irregular stain on the carpet. The stain looks as if it should be giving off an odor, though to be fair I have detected no irregular stinks.

Every time I call the elevator, it is my hope that I am not subject to the elevator stain. Please, Sweet Jesus! I say to myself. Please let some other elevator open up! Please! Roughly 25 percent of the time, however, I'm swept into the foul elevator.

Today I called the elevator from the lowest parking level. The bell from the soiled elevator rang and I thought briefly about sending it away and waiting for the next one. I was alone after all. There was no one else clamoring for a ride upstairs. In fact, if I had been with someone else, I probably would have sent the elevator on, holding back violent suburbanites in the process.

"Whoops! There's a stain in this one. Stand back everybody! I'll send the stained elevator ahead and we can wait for the next one! Ma'am, I said step off the car, we're waiting for the next one. What are you deaf? Sheesh, people! Work with me, not against me here. Sheesh!"

But as the elevator door opened I looked at the stain and noted that it appeared to be growing. In my consideration of the growth pattern of the unholy mark, I had a flash of inspiration.

As an aside, I've had these flashes before, and often act on them when I'm left to my own devices. When I'm with Tommy, I can often tell I've had one because he becomes mortified at the very thought of some wacky behavior I'm proposing. Usually, I call him a stick in the mud and roll my eyes and think about testing the ultimatum he often delivers when I want to act out.

But Tommy wasn't there, and the devil on my shoulder was screaming at me and I just couldn't ignore him. And I'd been reading Brownboy, so I stepped onto the elevator and squatted conspicuously over the stain. I hugged my legs and rested my cheek on my knees. I made certain my toes were pointed out, so that the stain could be easily viewed between my shoes, and in my mind's eye I imagined the V of my feet would actually draw a viewer's glance in between my legs and some unsuspecting bank patron or whatnot would be unable to ignore the horror on the ground, the horror seemingly from my ass.

And you know what? It worked perfectly. The doors closed and I ascended to the top parking level where two old women were on the car before they noticed me. Their breezy conversation stopped abruptly and they turned quickly to face the front of the car. They pressed the button for the third floor and subtly inched away from me until they were pressed up against the far elevator car wall.

I had to suppress a giggle which had the effect of drawing my face longer. I was hilarious!

The buzzer on the elevator sounded indicating we would be stopping on the first floor. I couldn't believe my luck. More victims.

I sort of glassied up my gaze, staring off into space. I was, therefore, surprised to hear my name being called.

"Brian? What the Holy Hell are you doing?"

Standing there in the elevator doorway was Judge Selma. An unlit smoke on her lips, her fists on her hips, her head tilted quizzically to the left considering me.

I stood up instantly. The judge boarded the elevator and faced the front for the duration of the ride. The two old women got off before us and left us alone on the elevator together for what seemed like hours, though in reality it was just 2 floors.

We stepped off the elevator together and walked down the corridor and into the judge's chambers. I remained two steps behind the judge for the duration and made myself busy the instant I was seated at my desk.

Nothing has yet been said of the event. I wonder if my luck will hold.

Posted at 3:38 p.m.

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