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What happens in the elevator stays in the elevator.

It really was an ambush of sorts.  I was minding my own business in the lobby waiting for the express elevator to arrive to take me up to the sky window of the building.  The familiar "ding" of the elevator arriving sounded, the doors open up, and out walks a very young lady.  She was probably in her mid to late 20's, long blonde hair down to her shoulders, professionally dressed, staring down at her blackberry.  She must have been with the real estate firm that offices in our building because all of their brokers look like her, even the men.  As she stepped off the elevator she looked up from her blackberry, gave me a wry smile, and the scurried off to the lobby.  I thought to myself that it was very polite of her to smile at this middle-aged, balding, property manager type guy getting ready to step on the elevator.  What a nice young lady.  Then, as I stepped on to the elevator and the doors closed behind me, I knew why she had smiled...

For those of you not familiar with how buildings work, there is absolutely no air conditioning or ventilation inside of elevator cabs.  None.   You are essentially in a big metal box (with Class AA appointments, mind you..) hurling upward or downward at 500 feet per minute.   While you are in this box there is no means of escape.  I know you all have seen in the movies where the trapped elevator guy climbs up through the ceiling to get on to the top of the cab and all that but it is simply not true.  Some elevators do have trap doors in the ceilings but they are only accessible from the top of the cab per building codes.  In addition, the express cabs in my building have only two stops - top and bottom, with no in-between.  If the cab stops and the door opens in-between the top and the bottom you are staring at a concrete wall.  There is no way around it - once you are in, you are in and must finish the ride.

This came abundantly clear to me as I watched the doors close on me after I had stepped into the cab that morning.  I realized that the pretty lady, professionally dressed, with the long blonde hair, had done something in that elevator that generally is left to the male gender to do:  fart in the elevator.  I am not sure what she had eaten that morning but it had fouled by the time it had reached the elevator cab.  Now, I consider myself experienced when it comes to flatulence, and this one was truly a bomb.  The fact that it had come from such a pretty lady made it all the worse.  How could something so pretty do such a destructive thing inside of a metal box for others to experience.  The real fear then hit me full throttle half way through my elevator ride.  If there are people waiting to board this box after I depart, they would not have seen the pretty lady get out of the elevator in the lobby.  They would only see this middle aged, balding, property manager type guy step out of the cab with his eyes watering and fighting back the gag reflex.  Who will get the blame?  You know who, that is who.

While I started into a brief ventilation prayer I began waving my arms around wildly trying to dissipate the offensive odor.  If elevators did not have ventilation built in I was sure as hell going to make my own for the next 10 seconds.  I knew that the pretty lady, with her long blonde hair, was probably sitting in her BMW in the parking garage, laughing hysterically that she had dropped a bomb on that middle aged, balding, property manager type guy.  I will have to find out who she was so I could deactivate her parking card on a rainy day...

As I waved my arms wildly in the air the arrival "ding" sounded in the cab, and the computerized voice announced that I was arriving at my destination.  I gathered myself, straightened my jacket, and dried the tears from my eyes.   The doors opened quickly and there before me stood three ladies waiting to board my cab of doom.  The ladies were dressed in casual attire and one was holding a camera, so my superior powers of deduction made me realize that these ladies were tourists, not tenants.  Then, in a move that many of us that ride elevators regularly consider very rude, they boarded the elevator before I had a chance to exit.  Little did they know that there was a surprise lingering in the atmosphere for them as they pushed the button for the lobby level.  I excused myself, exited the elevators, turned around and smiled at the ladies as the doors closed behind them.  I could tell by their expressions as the doors closed that they had discovered the aroma in the cab and were placing the blame solely on this middle aged, balding, property management type guy.

I can live with that.

(I welcome your comments below)