Watching life is a much loved avocation. The elevator never
ceases to provide riveting opportunities. Specially the one to my office on the
22nd floor in a busy building. It’s forever crowded with people entering
and alighting constantly and the lift is never free. Too many people, too few lifts.
I watch, sometimes unobtrusively, at times voyeuristically and
when occasion demands, brazenly the milieu that I’m trapped in an enclosed
space with. Sometimes endlessly it seems (body odor people, body odor!) it’s
wonderful to be in a multicultural society, having the fortuity to absorb
different cultures and subtle and overt nuances.
There’s a new outfit that has taken up six floors of the
building and this lot is the most interesting. They’re in real estate and they
are dressed to kill. Like literally! The men are all in three piece suits and
the waistcoat is colorful, the cravat, neck tie, pocket square brightly
patterned silk that screams garish glamor. The folk are like their garb, loud
and ostentatious.
Not much to comment about the women since they are much like
the other of their ilk, impeccably turned out with the apparel, bags, shoes,
watches, jewelry and sun glasses flaunting brands. Such a feast for the eyes. The
ones who walk in solo fiddle with their phones or adjust their hemlines and
necklines in the mirror that frames one wall of the lift. The men are pretty much
the same minus the fiddling.
Those who enter in groups have loud conversations and I know
the P&L of their companies as well as their bonus schemes too. It’s like
they’re in their conference rooms discussing company policy. Completely oblivious
that they are in a public space.
Earlier this week, as I was leaving office after a long day
and even longer wait for the lift I entered an already full elevator. A quick
glance around showed that I was the only female and I pulled out my phone,
better finger than fiddle!
Obviously it was a cohesive group by the body language and
banter. I didn’t bother with my usual scanning and resolutely kept my attention
private until I heard someone say, “This morning I woke on the bitch”.
In a flash my nonchalance vanished, my interest piqued, I glanced
upward and before I could glean the perpetrator, I heard someone else from
across ask, “On the bridge?” By now I’m teeming with curiosity and there’s no
way I’m going to miss out on the action here. The endless possibilities flashed
quicker Haley’s comet as my imagination ran amok.
If they were going to discuss this in public, why should I pretend
I’m deaf? So I raise my head and look around and there’s this Jamaican guy with
big beautiful eyes that sparkled with honesty looking at the rest of them who
are agog with curiosity and mouths open wide in wonder and some envy for sure and
his expression changed visibly. You could see the understanding dawn on him and
he enunciated verrrry slowly, “This morning… I Walk… on the Beach”.
An almost giggle escaped me and I quickly nosedived into my
phone. The charged atmosphere dissolved in that instant of anticlimax and the
lift reached the ground floor and we walked out and I overheard a few of them
saying, “Dude, what were you thinking” and the repartee, “Like you weren’t”.
I carried the memory of those few minutes and continued to
smile… lifted and elevated.
