I got stuck in an elevator- at Christmas time

So I found this started blog post that I apparently got distracted and never finished (surprised anyone?)... and thought, "Why not share this doozy with the world?" Merry Christmas in April, folks.




This is not a big deal. I kind of like the thought of wasting a day or two in an elevator. But the elevator at our downtown office has never broken on me before. I am not personally claustrophobic so when the woman approached myself and MC, my co-worker, our reaction to her seemingly crazy question of "Does this elevator get stuck often?" was one of almost incredulous, "No... never happened to either of us and we ride it all the time."


**Please note that this was our company's Operation Santa Claus day and that MC was dressed as Santa and I as a too-tall elf (If I can find the picture, I will attach it..)

No sooner did we pack Santa, myself and our new claustrophobic friend into our elevator, than four more ladies joined us. Now, this elevator is rather large and while I run the risk of sounding prejuidiced against the jolly, I have seen many large men pack into this elevator at closing time having apparently eaten their desks before entering. Note that I had not been stuck during these trips with the un-famished. So the 7 of us, ladies chattering away about the luncheon they were heading to, MC and I trying to not sweat to death and our claustrophobic friend headed upward. But between P1 (parking level one) and L (lobby for office), we skipped S (Store level). Dramatically panicking because it had skipped her level, our new friend pounded the buttons as the elevator came to a stop and the doors did not open.

MC has recently been in charge of an elevator contract and tried to begin to explain that it was not a big deal, that we deal with elevators all the time (althought I can see after our first incorrect statement that the elevator never gets stuck, why she might not believe us) and BAM! Claustrophia starts slamming buttons and pounding the door and shouting.

In true time elapse, we might have been stopped for three and a half whole minutes. The ladies all tried to calm her down while MC stood watch over the buttons so she couldn't do anymore damage and I spoke into the speaker. Thirty-five percieved minutes later, we were returning to the parking level where we explained to everyone to follow us and wandered out and around and up the stairs from P1 to S and then where they could find (insert place they were planning to go here).

Lesson learned: Don't allow the claustrophobic lady in the elevator with the bad-luck elf.

Medical History

My friend O (aka KS) has been complaining recently of shortness of breath after athletic activity. Purely joking, her roommate LR suggested that O get herself checked for asthma. A high level collegiate athlete, O has been playing rugby for 5 years at the fastest pace in the women's collegiate game with little issue. However, last weekend, after playing against a women's clubside, O found herself almost vomiting due to her lungs hurting so much.

Three hours later, while talking to her mom, O commented that her lungs had only just started to feel ok again. Her mom, very lovingly, responded that maybe O should start taking her inhaler again because of her excerise-induced asthma.
O:"My what?"
Her mom:"Your inhaler. All three of you kids had asthma..."
O:"But only my brother and sister have inhalers!!"
Her mom: "Well, they needed them."

She is now the proud owner of her brother's inhaler until after the national championship playoffs.

Maybe someone should have filled out her medical history form before she left for college five years ago.

Twins seperated at birth, only 11 years apart...

My cousin Brian was bar mitzvah'd on Saturday. The youngest of the three cousins in that family, Brian is probably the coolest kid of anyone I know. Who else would pose for the nine thousandth picture that day making the same face I would??

But the big story of the day is that my cousin Lauren (same family..stick with me here) and I ended up at the same event in the same dress.
Lauren has been compared physically to me since her birth and most people would agree that it is easy to see that we are cousins. In fact, some of our photos of us at the same age are a toss-up as to which belongs to who (unless someone made a note on the back or the fashions in the photos give it away). But when Lauren walked towards me in the middle of the Fellowship Hall wearing the EXACT SAME DRESS, complete with matching shrug, we knew we had made everyone's dream of a face to face comparison a reality. Unplanned and purchased seperately and never before discussed, our matching outfits meant I was often refered to as Lauren's age (11 years my junior may I note?).

Judge for yourself.


*at least we're both girls...

inside out and upside down

Monday, at my company's regional dinner, I wore a new and fascinating piece of apparel. Formerly known as the sports bra, it became the arb strops when, due to forgetting a "real bra", I had to turn it upside down and wear it as sort of a halter. It was bright orange and typical of a sport bra and the shirt I brought to change into was a boatneck in blue and white which would just really not allow for faking that I wore a tank underneath my shirt on purpose....So basically, for about four hours, I had a shelf of boobs.

What not to wear, Here I come.

Trippy

(these are not actually my knees but they look close.)

This past weekend I suffered several injuries. Anyone who has been around me for any length of time knows that graceful or agile is not exactly the words which quickly come tot he tongue when asked to describe me. Instead, in a National Championship game broadcast, I was once described as "rumbling, bumbling, stumbling". Nice.

So why I was suprised that I would suffer injury trying to be lithe and athletic on Sunday is a little beyond my own understanding of myself but the whole event was rather hilarious, so I thought it should be shared...

It all started Saturday when in a fit of fake rage, I threw a punch thru a doorway with my elbow. I honestly wasn't sure I didn't break it until Sunday morning. I failed to recognize my surroundings and was much closer to edge of the closet than I realizes. When I threw said punch, I slammed my elbow into the reinforced edge of the closet causing my elbow to give since the reinforcing wouldn't and I collapsed in pain that didn't relent until I fell asleep that night. When I woke up, I still couldn't use it too well in terms of putting pressure on that arm but I was obviously not broken.*

It was a sunny Sunday so we decided to go running seperately (see above for descriptive terms of my athleticism and you'll understand why I often run with myself). I was enjoying the sunshine, listening to Sookie, and running amongst the throngs of people in town for the regatta on Boathouse row, when I found myself suddenly airborne. With reaction time close to a blind deaf slug, it was helpless to try to react and instead I allowed myself to come to a heavy stop on my hands and knees. A man doing step-ups on a bench stopped and stared. No one managed to snicker until after I stood up, an event that made me look like a lop-sided tripod due to my elbow injury from the previous night not allowing me to put weight on that arm. When the man recognized that I was able to walk, he went back to his step-ups on the bench. I wanted to throw a rock at him, but the pain streaming thru my hands was stopping me from doing anything besides blinking back tears of embarassment. I quickly started to run, toughing it out when I realized the blood streaming down my knee was probably pretty disgusting.

(I should take this moment to comment on my running attire for the day. I choose to wear bright red shorts and an almost hot yellow t-shirt. So assuming your friend missed my theatrics, you could quite easily remember and point out the girl you just totally saw bite it in the biggest way.)

I managed to tough it out another half mile or so when I saw a bench and stopped to check out the damage. A man walked past my obvious attempt to stop the bleeding and then doubled back, asking if I was ok, if I needed a ride anywhere or if not, that he had a bandaid in the car. Feeling a bit like a five-year old at the playground being asked if I would like some candy, I released my yellow shirt now stained with blood and told him I was fine and continued on my run. I made it home and washed the rocks out my knee and spent the rest of the day trying to not run into things or fall anywhere else.

*(My elbow is currently the size of two elbows and rather blue in color, in case you were wondering).

Cats crossing my path

Last night I was watching "House" for a brief moment and the patient was sure he was cursed. He talked of being the most unlucky kid in the world (for full synopsis click here). I was intrigued by what he might have, being highly unlucky myself, until the first real diagnosis was Anthrax and Chase commented that Gabe might be the most unlucky kid ever. Off went the tv.

This morning two black cats crossed my path, narrowly missing my tires as I drove to work. I sure hope I don't have Anthrax....

Cops and Jury Duty

Question of the Day: "Would you be more likely to believe a police officer testimony because of their job?"

I recently (Tuesday) served my civic duty of jury duty for the City of Brotherly Love. Don't get me wrong here... I enjoyed having the valuable time of my day dedicated to reading magazines I was smart enough to bring while I was shuffled back and forth between uncomfortable wooden pews.

Following a friend's advice, I arrived approximately five minutes late. Apparently, my friend gave this advice to everyone on jury duty that day as there were a plethora of people who had chosen to not quite be on time. I passed thru security with little to no issues and entered Room 101. Finding myself with little understanding of just exactly what was going on here, I grabbed my mini-golf pencil and form 1 & 2 and hustled back to the theatre chairs all the way at the back that meant a little extra leg room. I filled in the information at the top of both sheets, listening for my name to be associated with a juror number (secretly wishing for juror #4)...

Peter Bartlett: I didn't bribe anyone.

Casey Novak: (sarcastically) Nooo... that fifty thousand dollar payment to juror number four was charity.

But alas, just as I began my filling in my answers to the questions on page #1 and #2, I was given the number 6. I had made it all the way to the question with which I started my blog and a flashback started to occur...

***Enter whispy dry ice fumes....

Monday, I am driving thru downtown Philadelphia and find myself at 16th and Chestnut at 1:38PM. I must go approximately 4 city blocks until I enter a covered garage and proceed upstairs to a meeting being held at 2PM. As I pass 16th, the two cars in front of me turn left leaving me the solo driver in my lane for the next block as several cars deep are waiting to turn right on 15th. As I approach the intersection of Chestnut and 15th, three youths streak across the intersection across traffic. Please note I had a green light.

Due to the actions of these fine young men, I now find myself slamming on the brakes. Since they clear the street before I even have the chance to hit them, I now clear the intersection as it turns yellow out of the corner of my eye. I am now stuck at the next light, as lights inevitably change in unison. When the cars behind me advance, I see a cop car pull up behind me and then flash its lights.

Now. The following things are true:

1. I drive a bright red passat.

2. My age is sometimes mistaken and I have been asked unreasonable questions about my age in multiple locations (example: at 22, I was asked if I would be driving soon. True story.)

3. I believe that I am a good driver.

So when I see the lights, I think, "They should have turned at 15th. There is a lot of traffic here and a bus on my right. How are they going to get past?" Naivety.

Folks, they stopped that cop car right there, got out and approached my vehicle. Having had my car broken into twice last year, I actually did not know where my registration and insurance was at first and the lady cop to my left was very curt when she informed me to stop freaking out because I hadn't gotten a ticket yet so my attitude could go a long way towards helping that. Also, I needed to "turn my radio down!" (Note to cops out there: Please do not speak to humans in a tone used for a naughty dog. It tends to bring out the b*tch in all of us). She asked me my age (check the license lady) and asked me if I knew why I was stopped (obviously not given my surprise at your tapping on my window as I sat in traffic) and then I then sat in the left lane blocking traffic until 2:02 when they brought my papers back and told me to have a safe day.

...smoky fog clears****

Do I have any bias towards the Philly Police department who has not shown up to my car break-in and then wasted twenty minutes of my day not writing me a ticket but warning me not to try to hit people who are jaywalking while I have a green light? I think I have done enough jury duty for this city for a while.