The Neverending Elevator Ride
The 'not quite bad enough to be intensive care ward' is on the fourth floor of the Craven County Regional Bed and Breakfast on the same floor is oncology, the cancer ward. This entire time I have marvled at the speed and smoothness of the elevators. If you have ever ridden in a rough riding elevator you would love this. Apart from the lights and the friendly BING at each floor there is really no sensation of motion at all.
It was in this elevator on the fourth floor headed to the first I experienced this unnervingly long ride. Just before the doors closed on the fourth floor two guys my age came into the elevator. In high school I was in the theater and concert choir. In high school they drank beer under the bleachers and smoked in the boys room. In college I never got a tattoo. In tattoos they have never gone to college. Tough guys. Billy badass red necks who work hard and party hard. Business in the front, party in the rear, base ball caps NOT representing any sports team.
This wouldn't be that big a deal except for one little detail. They were trying so hard not to cry and they were failing. They came from oncology. Everyone deals with emotional pain differently though generally you can classify it and more educated folks than I have already done so. Five stages of grieving and all that. The knowledge I had of them and my education lead me to a very uncomfortable understanding.
Those two could have been me. They were feeling things they had no experience dealing with and they were ticking time bombs. I didn't want to be in the elevator with them. There is nothing worse than watching a badass cry, and ten times worse when it is brothers. I knew that one wrong move and they would channel their alien feelings into something they were more comfortable with, anger. Guys are good at being angry, basasses are very good at being angry. If you don't believe me then why has COPS been a show that has been going strong since 1988 with no cancellation in sight. I didn't want to add insult to injury by being forced to beat them bloody and then appologize for their loss. So I remained quiet like a little mouse and staired at my own shoes.
I also worried about them driving. Driving and Crying is a decent band, but no way to leave a hospital. Especially with anger so close to the surface. Had I had a bottle of something in my bag I would have given it to them without a word. I realize alcohol isn't the prefered treatment for loss, but it would have been a bandaid. Would they have driven while drinking? Of course, they would have anyway, and probalby did more than anyone would be willing to acknowledge. That's just the way it is.
That elevator ride has been over a long time now, but those guys haven't left my thoughts. We are as smoke from the same fire.
