This is NOT and Exit

We were enjoying one our favorite past times–NOT– yesterday here at work.

  There was a fire drill!  

ARRRRGH.  They always occur right when you get settled in and you are in a very productive mode.   You have all your ducks in a row and then the bell.  And, of course, one of those bells and annoying flashing lights is right over my desk.  So I can’t say that I didn’t hear it and to try to even suggest that I couldn’t see the light would be as far fetched as one could get.

The fire drill is really not the subject of this blog post.   Although, this was one of the shortest fire drills that we ever had and it was not a “full blown” drill.  That is to say, the fire department was not on scene with the trucks (you say ‘seriously?’  Yes… seriously).  Getting back to ranch… ( a phrase my English Professor from College English 101 used to use because he was always getting off topic.. as I have just done again) the thing that I saw yesterday that jumped out at me for the first time was a sign.  Not just any old sign now.  It is one of those signs that I have, literally, passed more than 1,000  times!  

Between the first and second floors in my building we have a mezzanine level.  It is basically where the maintenance staff sets up shop and has their offices.  Well as I was walking up the steps yesterday (waiting in line for an elevator after a fire drill is NOT an option for me.  I don’t have that kind of time to waste) and as I was going past the mezzanine level door opened!  That had never happened before and I have been in this building now for a little over 5 years!

As I think about it now… that had to have been the trigger!  The sign on the door reads:  This is NOT an EXIT.  You can imagine how the “king of imponderables” would react to seeing such a sign and then seeing someone exiting the floor via the very same door.  Now I realize that this could all just be a matter of perspective, but I’m just saying.  So the question becomes, when I leave the staircase am I exiting a floor or entering a floor.  I suppose the argument could be made that I am exiting the staircase but who in the world thinks like that?  I can’t be going crazy because I am LEFT handed (although you can’t tell from my typing so I thought I’d enlighten you) so that means I’m always in my RIGHT mind.  I’m just saying.  So for the sake of argument and because this is MY blog, shouldn’t the sign read:  This is NOT an ENTRANCE… or… I’ve got it… I work for a company that is so Politically correct they would buy this…. it should read… This is NOT and ENTRANCE/EXIT!  Which would lead me to yet another blog post…. Why is the door even there!

Well, it doesn’t matter.  I can blog until I’m blue in the fingers… and with my complexion that would be quite a feat… but I can pretty much guarantee that the sign will not change and that someone, somewhere has already made the decision that the sign– no matter how confusing it is to the 10 percent of us in the world who are lefties– serves its purpose and will not be changed… that is… until one day… someone among the “powers that be” happens to be walking up the steps after a fire drill and someone exits the entrance just as they are passing the door…  the sign will be changed in less than 24 hours.

Afraid or Afeared?

AFRAID

When I was growing up and people were scared of things, generally the younger the age the more you were likely to be afraid, however  the older you were the more likely it was that you would be afeared.  Little did I know it, but I was just in the the beginning stages of developing what I would later come to know as pet peeves… and in my half century (just like everyone else) I have developed quite a few.

AFEARED

The reason I even bring this up has to do with this morning’s ride into work.  I picked up a taxi at the slug line this morning. (The ride was still free, the driver just wanted to use the HOV lanes and taxis can do HOV-2 [two people in the car] and are not restricted to HOV-3. Now this taxi was a minivan and he could have take 5 people if he wanted to,  but for whatever his reasons were he only picked up 1 rider and I was the dude at the front of the  ine so I got first pick.  I thought to myself how lucky I was.  Then the driver took off.  I knew I was in trouble right away.  Notice I said I got in, but I never said anything about the door closing?  Well it was one of those automatic jobs and it was closing on its own.

The driver was not about to wait for it and cramp his style.  Or perhaps he had things to do and places to go.  The fact that the passenger (ummm that would be me) could have fallen out  at any moment before the door closed did not seem to phase him int he least. It felt like we were in the Pole Position at the Indy 500. My first thought definitely was NOT… “You’re in good hands with Allstate.”  In fact I came to realized that I was afeared.  Yes, you read that right.   Not AFRAID…  AFEARED!

So Speedy Gonzales; as I have so affectionately nicknamed my driver (and that’s being very kind), was zipping in an out of traffic like a mad man.  He was cutting his corners a ittle too close.  By all rights by the time we had gone 1 mile we probably should have died 5 times!  I could only eyeball it, but it looked like he was only leaving about 3.6789 inches  clearance between the van we were in and the vehicles we were passing.  Some of those we were almost pushing  because my driver did not feel a need to slow down just because the brake lights went on in the car in front of us.  No, it was much easier to slow down at the very last minute.  Many people were getting out of his way; I was trapped and did not have the luxury.   I could only think that this is what it felt like to be afeared.  I tried closing my eyes at one point— mistake.  The way the car was jerking this way and that and slowing down at will, (if it is possible) my imagination of what was happening was much worse that what was actually occurring    I decided to keep the eyes open and then, at least, if I was going to dies I could see how it happened.  How that would be helpful to me, I’m not sure, but that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

So that was all of the negative stuff.  There were two positive saving graces.  First… I was running late to begin with and Speedy helped to make up some of my lost time.  And secondly when I told him where I wanted to be dropped off, he did not take me to the typical  drop off point for that area which is 2 1/2 blocks away from my building; so I would have to walk a little…  He dropped me off right across to street from by building!  That saved me even more time. So I can be thankful for those little things, but most of all I can be thankful that I survived!  And… not that I didn’t trust the driver, I waved him by and decided to not try to cross the street in front of him.  Good call, I think!