Meet Hank

(photo via 3bpblogs.com)

If you've EVER been in an elevator, you can appreciate this.

Sharing an elevator with somebody is awk. Sups awk. You're not sure how to stand, where to stand, who's getting off first, who's getting off last. Do I say something like: "Hi," or do I keep my mouth shut? What if an attractive fellow climbs aboard and I want to say hi, but he's putting on his iPod, so a short chat would be inappropriate. What if he says something, and I didn't hear him because my iPod is blasting something ridiculous like "The Call" from an old school Backstreet Boys album... Whew! So many things to think about...

This morning on my way to work, I climbed aboard the Camelot Express (my elevator) and was joined by "Hank." Hank lives on the 7th floor. Hank loves to sing. (Every once in awhile, I'll hear Hank singing at the top of his lungs, or a man I believe to be Hank.)

Hank was in a rather chipper mood this morning, as he hummed the tune to "Oh Chariot," by Gavin DeGraw. BTW, Hank is probably in his early 60's. Hank has great taste in music. (Go, Hank!) He invited me to step off the elevator first, so I obliged. As I stepped into the lobby, Hank hit the high note... And scared me half to death. I jumped. The doorman jumped. Hank laughed.

Thanks, Hank. I do cherish our awkward elevator rides.