The Awkward Elevator Ride

I stepped onto an elevator this morning and there was a guy standing in there with whom I have a passing workplace acquaintance.

“Hi.” He said.

So I’m in the elevator with this guy I sort of know which means – by whatever crazy logic is flowing through my mind – that since he’s not a stranger but someone I sort of know, I have to make conversation with him. Forget that I don’t really know anything more about him than what floor he works on, that he’s a smoker and that he has a faded tattoo on his left arm (and I only know that last little bit of worthless information because he always wears short-sleeved button-down shirts which has always struck me as odd), the rules of ‘Acquaintance Conversation’ are the rules.

Suddenly, I’m thinking, a relaxing 60 second elevator ride is shaping up to be anything but relaxing.

“Hey, how you doin’?” I said. I wonder what his name is?

“I’m good, you?” Faded Tattoo Smoker Guy From the 18th Floor says.

“I’m OK.” I said. “Happy that the Super Bowl is over.”

Faded Tattoo Smoker Guy From the 18th Floor chuckles. Or it could have been a cough, I’m not sure. The cigarette smoke smell is strong on him so I’m sure he’s making his way back upstairs after having a smoke.

Will this ride never end? “And baseball starts next week.” I go on.

“Really? Baseball already?” Faded Tattoo Smoker Guy From the 18th Floor says.

Really? Baseball already? For some of, pal, baseball never ends. “Yeah.”

“Well, go Twins, huh?”

Dear God, help me. “Yeah, go Twins.”

Faded Tattoo Smoker Guy From the 18th Floor looks at me with an expression on his face like ‘Who knows the day that baseball starts?’ and I look at Faded Tattoo Smoker Guy From the 18th Floor with what I hoped wasn’t an expression like ‘Who doesn’t know the day that baseball starts?’

I looked up at the floor numbers ticking away too slowly and he looked down at the floor and what followed was one really long 30 seconds.

Awkward.