More Elevator Stories.

It's got to be the fourth or fifth time I've commented on elevator happenings on this blog. Never before did I realize how much humor takes place on elevators. Had I known this, I would have stopped walking the flight of stairs up to Cafe Zeb while I was at Boalt Hall and implemented a strict Elevator-Only policy.

So, yesterday, walking out of the office together, Front Secretary and I were blabbin it up. Where we work, there are two towers and then one smaller tower, which is connected to the parking lot. When we leave our offices, we exit our building and go to the third, stumpy building to get to our cars. That building has two sets of elevator: the left side goes to the basement levels and the right set goes to the higher floors of the lot. We were in the middle of a conversation about the frustrations of work and the fact that she loves her dog a little too much when it came time to part ways at the elevator doors:

Lex: "You always go down, huh?"
Front Secretary: Pressing the elevator call button "Yup, always going down."
Lex: Laughing "Yeah, I am always on top."

It was then that I realized I had stepped onto the elevator with Overweight Creepy Guy. Who promptly gave me an Overweight Creepy semi-smile after clearly hearing the exchange. And I, for some sick reason, felt the urge to correct him, because I knew exactly what he was thinking. I wanted to say:

"No, no, I'm always on top of the parking structure. Not sex. I'm backwards, forwards, up, down, sideways, lotus, reverse cowgirl... you name it. Don't pigeon hole me into some sick twisted 'only-on-top' category of girls who are sexually boring..."

Then I decided it was better to let sleeping dogs lie. If he's going to picture it, or retell the story, it's better to limit his options of the imaginary sexual positions I might be in.