I am a creature of habit – I get there a bit early as I have to drive 2, sometimes 3 or more hours to get there and don’t want to get stuck in Denver traffic during rush hour…
So, I walk into the building and head directly for the classroom (which has been on the third floor the previous three times it’s been held) via the elevator. I’m thinking of the RV that almost ran me over on I-25 when the car in front of me stopped and I stopped, but RV had a little harder time going from 75 to 0 in 2 seconds… Yikes!
Anyway, I boarded the elevator, lost in thought, pushed 3 (for the third floor) and kinda looked around a bit. I noticed a menu of activities posted on the right wall of the tiny, mobile room. ‘Huh! John McCain… Isn’t that odd? Some guy with the same name as a presidential candidate is speaking at this building sometime tonight. Weird…’ (Yeah, I do stuff like that all the time.)
The door opens and I step out of the elevator to a room full of black-suit-dressed goons, female and male – all standing around tables looking self-important and more equal than others. (I think I walked in on them patting each other on the back, or something.) I’m dressed in blue jeans and a pink sweater. WAY out of place. I nod, and then head to the hallway which leads directly to the classroom I’ve been attending for the past 2 weeks…
Sasquatch in a black dress suit holds out her hands in a “hold on there, Sparky” way and says: “This area is secure!”
I think to myself: ‘define secure.’
I said, “No, that’s okay – I’m attending a class just around the corner.” And I kinda point in that direction.
Sasquatch says, “NO! This WHOLE area – this WHOLE floor – is secure.”
I’m thinking, 'Not so much – I just walked off the elevator… no problems there! How flippin’ secure is that? Again… define secure.'
I say, “Oh!” and I’m sure I’m standing there like a fish in the headlights… or a deer out of water… and then I say “They must have moved the class.” Then, I start to get back onto the ‘secured’ elevator to leave these self-important people to smelling each other’s armpits and choosing up sides.
Another lady walks me to the doors and said “Here, let me help you.”
I say, “I don’t need an escort. I can figure this out. But, Thank you.”
She pushes button #1 and walks out of the elevator. I look at the list and see the class is to be held on the second floor that evening.
I say, “Well, thanks, but I needed floor 2…” as the door shuts on my words.
And I was thinking of voting for McCain…