The Elevator

The familiar "ding" of the elevator resonates in the soundless hall. The metallic mirrored doors open to reveal metallic mirrored walls and matching ceiling. I step into the elevator, alone. I smooth my hair and adjust my shirt, though the reflection has been bent and pulled, as in a fun house, but ever so slightly. Ding...ding...stop. The doors open and an older man with a briefcase steps in. We both smile politely as the doors close once again. Eight more floors to go. Silence. Awkward silence.

Do I mind my own business, staring quietly at the elevator buttons? Is it rude, to not acknowledge the human standing next to me? Do I say, "how's it going?" even though we both know I don't really care? Do I make some mindless comment on the weather, the last resort of ice breakers?

All these questions float through my mind as the elevator descends ever so slowly. It seems to be moving even slower now, though I suspect the subtle time-warp is really just a figment of the imagination.

If this were just any elevator, perhaps in a mall or doctor's office, I would be fully content in my silence, knowing I will probably never see these people again and even if I did, it wouldn't matter. But this elevator is not in a mall or a doctor's office, nor any other place in which I am virtually guaranteed anonymity. I am at work and though this person does not work on the same floor as me, and therefore is not likely to be my coworker, I feel almost obligated to engage in some sort of thoughtless chatter, to obtain a reputation of friendliness that I generally reserve only towards my friends. You never know who knows whom, especially in a 20-story office building, and I don't want to risk being the "antisocial one."

As I further analyze my plight, the elevator doors open. The journey has ended. As men often do, perhaps as a tribute to the chilvary that is nearly dead in the modern world (though I don't care much about chilvalry- perhaps this will be another topic soon), he motioned for me to exit the elevator first. I politely say my "thank you" and go on my separate way.

And I realize...silence or sound...it never really mattered at all. It's just an elevator. Funny how our minds can make something so small into something so large and looming. And with not a word being said or a movement made, I realize...sometimes the best thing to do is nothing.