Thursday, December 21, 2006


As I'm walking towards the elevators, I'm accosted by an older man carrying some balloons and flowers. He's obviously a new proud grandparent, as evidenced by the mylar balloon which loudly and obnoxiously proclaim that It's a Boy!

Old Man: Excuse me doctor, where's the Labor and Delivery?

Me: It's on the third floor by the-

Old Man: [interrupting] But I'm on the third floor.

Me: No, this is the second floor. You can take the-

Old Man: [interrupting, again] No, I'm already on the third floor.

[I look at the wall by the elevator. There's a big number 2.]

Me: No sir, you're on the second floor.

Old Man: [getting a bit aggravated] Well that can't be because I got off on the third floor! Are you playing games with-

Me: [Interrupting and pointing towards the big number 2] I don't know what to tell you sir, but you're on the second floor.

Old Man: [Raising his voice] Now look son, how can I be on the second floor if I got off on the third floor?

At this point, I become flabbergasted, amused, annoyed, and a bunch of other things. One part of me wants to shoot myself. Or better yet, him. I've got lots of things to do today, of which arguing with stupid old men not being one of them. As you can guess, my brain is screaming. I do my best to remain my composure.

Meanwhile, my arm remains pointing at the number 2.

The old man finally looks at what I'm pointing at. I can see his brain power up and slowly process the implications of the sign.

Me: The stairs are right here, or you can take the elevators.