There were countless elevator rides. This one stands out. It was a rainy day. I was wet from head to toe. The elevator was mostly full when I got on.
“Thirty two please. Thank you.” Nobody wanted to get any closer to me. They were dressed in the costumes of corporate respectability. Pantsuits, pencil skirts and blazers surrounded me. Everyone was wearing woven wool. Everyone except for me.
I was clad in cut off combat pants, a waterproof and breathable cycling jacket, bike grease and about seventy five percent more ass stink than everyone else in the elevator combined. I wore bread bags over my socks in an attempt to keep my feet dry that morning.
There was a circle of moisture on the floor around me. I was sopping, soaking, dripping wet. One by one they shuffled past me on and off the elevator. They kept their gazes lowered. As they did I started to hum an old song from Sesame Street.
Three of these kids belong together, Three of these kids are kinda the same. One of these kids is doin…
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