The Elevator

Since I've moved from Portland, Oregon to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and taken a new job, the elevator has become part of my weekday routine. I didn't have to deal with an elevator before, at least not one with more that two floors. Which I never took anyway 'cause, frankly, who takes the elevator one floor? (If you're like, handicapped or a little plump or something, then I'm not talking about you. You can take the elevator.) I mean, the average person can walk up one flight of stairs, right? I'm not being insensitive to the masses of Americans who have trouble getting up that first step, am I?

Anyway, so not the point.

It's a new world in there, I mean inside the elevator. It's like, as soon as you step in you're in a whole new culture, until you step off. There's elevator etiquette, which I'm still learning, apparently. For example, men will always wait - at least in my office - until all of the ladies have gone in front of them. And if the elevator is full you do not enter, unless you've already let two elevators before this one pass because of capacity, at which point you are allowed to enter the third elevator even though the number of times you allowed other elevators to pass does not, in any way, affect how crammed you are making this third elevator. But them's the rules. The strangest part of my newly found elevator experience, however, is the silence. People on elevators do not talk. Unless they're already in conversation together, everyone gets on the elevator and become as silent as possible.

Sidebar: I think I want to live with my kids on the elevator.

And it's not a secret. It's as if no one is willing to talk about how uncomfortable this fairly simple operation is - everyone knows it but no one is talking about it. And then, when someone who feels it - the silence - just can't take it anymore and decides to speak up, it's as if the elevator stalls for a split-second at the collective sigh of relief - the sigh heard 'round the world. So, basically, no one speaks, we're all uncomfortable, but we want to speak so as to not be uncomfortable.

So strange.

I'm still getting used to this whole "big city" thing. I can't imagine a "real" big city. I visited Chicago - whoa mama! Too much for me. I need to ease into a Chicago or NY. That's something I'll have to build up to; for now, Pittsburgh, you are my home.

Ciao!