Elevator Dancing
Admit it. When the last stodgy businessman exits the elevator and you have three more floors to go...you dance. It's okay. You are not alone. Well, you are alone (in the elevator) and that's why you are dancing. I mean to say that I, too am an elevator dancer. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Elevator dancing is an ancient art, dating back to the days when lifts were first invented, probably like a hundred years ago...maybe even a hundred and forty two.
Something about the claustrobic, coffin-like nature of these little boxes makes me feel alive. When the door closes, I let loose. Bopping to an imaginary disco tune, I strut my stuff. Sometimes I almost get caught, but usually there are fairly obvious signs that the enclosure is about to bloom again. So, I stop and regain my composure. I must not let on to the "public" that I am one of those elevator dancing fools. They might have me locked up, maybe in a place where I be sent to solitary confinement, a prisoner, destined to dance away my life sans an audience. And that would be okay too.
I seldom worry about security cameras. More than once, I have caught my reflection in the mirrored ceiling and taken the opportunity to imagine that this is what I would look like to Spiderman if he scaled down a building to kiss me. I don't care if some random security gaurd is laughing at me--I know where his other hand is.
Something about the claustrobic, coffin-like nature of these little boxes makes me feel alive. When the door closes, I let loose. Bopping to an imaginary disco tune, I strut my stuff. Sometimes I almost get caught, but usually there are fairly obvious signs that the enclosure is about to bloom again. So, I stop and regain my composure. I must not let on to the "public" that I am one of those elevator dancing fools. They might have me locked up, maybe in a place where I be sent to solitary confinement, a prisoner, destined to dance away my life sans an audience. And that would be okay too.
I seldom worry about security cameras. More than once, I have caught my reflection in the mirrored ceiling and taken the opportunity to imagine that this is what I would look like to Spiderman if he scaled down a building to kiss me. I don't care if some random security gaurd is laughing at me--I know where his other hand is.
posted by Saviour Onassis at 1:30 AM
2 Comments:
I don't spend much time in elevators...but sometimes I dance, as well as I can from the waist up, at least, in the car.
I work on the eleventh (top) floor in my building. I am so pleased when I can have the end of the ride to myself and CUT LOOSE. Today David Bowie's "Young Americans" was playing on my iPod and I was alone from 9 to 11. It was sweet.
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