Seniors remember when people in a movie were easily identified as detectives or reporters because they always had their hat on. Businessmen and professionals were expected to wear hats too, but the rules were different. First of all, hats were to be tipped to the ladies. Ask a senior to demonstrate. Furthermore, when entering an elevator or any room with a lady in it, hats had to be taken off. This often led to a comic scene in a movie: a guy gets on a very crowded elevator and tries to remove his hat while holding a stack of boxes undoubtedly filled with kittens, snakes or lemon meringue pies. (Corny, but people still laugh.)
Also, it was always “ladies first.” Nowadays, for better or worse, all this is no longer necessary since we no longer have “ladies.” In fact, if you tried it today, various responses might occur: a smile from a senior woman, a grudging acceptance from a middle-ager or a sneer from a young woman who, if strongly into militant feminism, might shove you on first.
Once in the elevator, more complications. Do we chat, phone, text; as others cram into us, do we fight them off (or not, depending on how cute the crammer is)? Then there is the inevitable having to sneeze or cough. The ultimate horror is, of course, a fart. If lucky, it is a silent-but-deadly and we can glower accusingly at the nearest person. If a rip-roarer, the humiliation is titanic. Could it possibly get worse? Sure. You or they might then start a giggle fit.
I’ll finish with a confession of my (never acted upon) compulsion: I am behind a lone woman in an elevator and get the demonic urge (akin to touching the paint near a “Do not touch” sign) to let out a deep-throated, slow, sinister hee, hee, hee. I assume the woman will either punch me or pee her panties. Probably both.
How high the hole?
We all face certain problems in life; some we can fix and others we are stuck with. Size is one of them. There are those who claim bigger is better, but I dare say the hulking beasts beside me on my recent plane trip would disagree. My knees were not grinding into the seat in front for five hours nor did I have to ask for a seatbelt extension as did my mammoth companions.
When living in Japan, I secretly enjoyed watching the big guys invariably hit their head entering the houses and subways. They were also in constant danger of decapitation from the revolving ceiling fans.
My topic, as you might guess, is about those of us who are vertically challenged, that is, short. It was always a problem in school when I was chosen last for the games which were supposed to be fun, but which I never enjoyed; except maybe that time learning “Find the Badger” with the pumpkin and the two quarterbacks in the shower room; but I digress … perhaps another time!
My complaint today concerns the height of certain holes. Why do they have to be so high up? They are most inconvenient for shorter people when there is something one really wants to check out. I realize someone took the time and energy to drill through; not an easy task considering today’s building materials, but I don’t care. The holes are so high we shorties have to get on tiptoe to get any satisfaction or see who is on the other side. It just isn’t fair and I certainly am not going to carry a stool around. What I am going to do is complain to my apartment manager and have him fit my door with a larger and lower peep hole!
