My elevator story

Here’s my elevator story. Happened a long time ago in college. We had 2 elevators in our dorm building, and one was always broken. I used to live on the top 8th floor. It was the same deal every morning. You’d wait forever for the single elevator to arrive, get on it, and then spend forever stopping at each floor.

Me and another couple get on the 8th floor, another person gets on the 7th, 6th, still fine. Even 5th floor is borderline OK. But once you get to the 4th and somebody stops the elevator to get on, they start getting dirty looks. Take the fu*king stairs, you know the single elevator’s going to be full anyway.

On this particular day, the elevator stopped on every single floor, including 3rd. After the 3rd, the door closed, and we continue down to 1st, then all of a sudden, the elevator stops on the 2nd floor.

There a big black dude on the elevator (got on around 7th floor), and he’s all pissed, because he’s about to be late for class. Before the door opens, he says out loud: “THIS GUY BETTER BE CRIPPLED!!!”

A second later the door opens, and this frail Asian dude rolls up on a wheelchair.

Everybody fell silent. I felt like laughing out loud, and sad at the same time. One guy chimed in – ‘Dude, that’s fu*ked up.’

It was.

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