For quite a number of years I have been without cable service and while I have continued to enjoy renting dvd's on occasion and seen more of what has been offered on television through a "Netflix" account (now that dvd rental sources are going the way of the dinosaur) - I have to say that assuming the right frame of mind, there truly has not been comedy written that equals the folly of my own life. Again I must emphasize the "right frame of mind" as on some occasions I am not present to the light-hearted energy required, to see myself and the circumstances of my life with the requisite humour I speak of.
A recent event comes to mind to illustrate my point, I will endeavour to encompass the various nuances necessary to achieve both an entertaining story and some elements of the human journey (well, at least mine).
It all began when I had returned home from morning errands and entered the elevator in the underground parking of my condo building. Just as I stepped into the elevator across the gap between the elevator car and the floor at it's entrance (which must be all of maybe two inches) the fist full of keys that occupied my hand (which share space on ring that has a combination of personal talisman and practicality - i.e. the electronic remote with which I gain access to my car, all of which make the collective difficult, but apparently not impossible to lose).
The keys were plucked from my hands by some invisible force, gravity asserted it's presence flawlessly and the two inch gap in the floor at that instant, might as well have been the ravenous expanse of the Grand Canyon - I watched in a seemingly helpless state of suspended animation while in slow motion my keys disappeared in the cavernous maw with the precision of the perfect basketball shot - "nothing but net!" (describes the ball going directly through the hoop without touching the rim) I swear they never even touched the edges as they vanished.
I stood there in utter amazement wondering - "did that just happen?" rather a pointless question (made more so by me examining my now empty hand - which obviously didn't any longer hold keys and then looked down at the gap in the floor which had now assumed proportions in keeping with it true size and thought "really?" "My keys and all they represent, are down there?" "Not far away really, however they might just as well be in outer Mongolia!!"
Interesting in hindsight that the "reality" of the situation was "immediate" however various elements of "denial" presented before I could actually come to "accept" the situation. I never did actually get angry.... it was more like: "seriously?" "My keys are down the elevator shaft!" "Is that even possible?" "What are the odds of that happening?" "I've stepped into that elevator innumerable times - keys in hand - without incident!" I have to admit that gap in the floor has often loomed in my consciousness - little did I know of it's patient, cunning, calculated plot to possess my keys!"
Often while riding the elevator I have thought - "in the event of a malfunction - I've got at least a book in my backpack, sometimes even a snack." "I could be alright if I had to hang out here for awhile."
Am I afraid of elevators? or claustrophobic? Well, I would typically answer no - but it seems to me as I write this, maybe I'm not as entirely comfortable with the ride as I let on. It seems I have considered that "something could go wrong here" whilst riding. That looming gap - must trigger (if even unconsciously) thoughts like, "this thing is suspended in a shaft - I've placed (or maybe "misplaced") my trust that this gravity defying, mechanical mode of transportation, will deliver me to my intended destination"). However all this time - the "gap" in the floor has been there giving me that toothless smile of reassurance, which for years has lulled me into a false sense of security, and when conditions were weighted just right in favour of this conception of "Otis" - it ate my keys!!
"Again I question the odds - do you think I can buy a winning lottery ticket?" "Oh...... no!! (well at least not so far) I wonder how the odds compare? "I beat these odds, impeccably - those keys are good and gone aren't they?"
After a brief period of incredulously staring down the darkened abyss of the elevator shaft I began to reckon with the truth that my keys were in fact at the bottom and were not going to find their own way back into my hand. So on to "acceptance" and a plan of action to deal with the ever present reality that I, had eventually reconciled with.
A ride to the main floor and I can call on one of the owners that is on the Strata council (and does some building maintenance etc.) he's "always around" - accept of course, when he isn't, again the odds don't seem to be rolling in my favour. I knock at first hopefully and then as the rhythm of my assault on the door echoes, though it yields me nothing more, than a stark indomitable barrier between me and the reunion with my keys. I wax philosophically for the moment: "if you knock on a door and nobody answers - is it any different than not knocking at all?"
Feeling a little deflated I look around - rode the elevator back to the basement, stared for a moment longingly down the shaft (nothing had changed). I got off put my vest in the access door to the parkade so I wouldn't get locked out there and walked around to the opposite side of the elevator where a metal utility door labeled "elevator room" exists - trying the door, I discovered it to be locked as well. Hmm... there's a theme developing in my day - there seems to be a series of locked doors between where I am and where I want to be. Well..... now I know there is an "elevator room" - I'm not sure what I'm going to do with that information, but it might be useful later and in this moment it will keep the less than helpful part of my mind from spinning the light catastrophic.
Back on the elevator and up to the main floor - another knock on the door of the resident maintenance guy, still not home (seriously he always here vacuuming, sweeping in the parkade, washing the floor in the elevator, raking leaves - what makes him think he's free to have life and leave the premises at a time like this?)
So I sit down on the couch in the main entrance lobby - I have a newspaper and a couple of books in my bag, I guess I can just chill for now. I slip into a little "act as if" isn't this a pleasant, beautiful sunny day, I can look out the front entrance at some of the plants and shrubs in "our" garden, watch the occasional people walking by outside - they seem not to have a care in the world. Some look in and see me sitting there - we exchange a glance and a smile, a moment of connection. I sit there embodying the portrayal of someone just enjoying the morning paper or waiting for someone to pick me up - probably look completely as though it is my "intention" to be here. (except every now and again my mind is screaming - "you are not supposed to be here - this is not okay, your damn keys are in the shaft!")
"Oh please - give it a rest!" I know where the keys are, what would you have me do?" "I'm waiting for Duane (the maintenance guy to walk through that door - for now, this is where it's at, breath........ and relax).
Just then another neighbour from upstairs arrive through the front door. She sees me sitting there with my newspaper and we exchange pleasantries: "Nice day to be relaxing with the paper eh?" "Why yes it is - I haven't sat out here before it is rather pleasant." (she has no idea what is going on here - I have a couple of choices - I can jump into hyper-alert image management (which for some significant portion of my life has been the default) and keep this story line going or......... "You'll never guess what happened!" says I). I then proceed to tell here what happened and ask if she has the number of "Sharon" at the property management office. "Yes I do she replies" - she retrieves the number from her cell phone I save it into mine and she wishes me good luck.
I place a call to Sharon - only to be invited to leave a message on her voicemail, which I accept. This after all seems to be some small measure of progress. Okay back to my reading and chillin'. Oh no..... for sometime now I've had the vague (and now not so vague) sensation that the morning intake of tea and water was asserting it's diuretic influence. Oh ya.... this it..... the time is now (or very soon!) So I start knocking on doors up and down my corridor ...... great! middle of the day everyone's at work! The final door is to a suite that is leased by an agency as a small group home - I knock on the door and the care worker answers - "yes can I help you?" Time to once again lower the pride and not allow any latent shame energy to raise the shields - I explained to him what happened and "now while I'm locked out and waiting I really need to use a washroom - could I please impose on you?"
"Sorry he answers, my client has just gone into the tub and he in there for a good 40 minutes." "Thanks anyway - I walk away somewhat deflated again and with a growing urgency. Maybe if I just ignore it - the urge will pass? A very short while indicates to me - No in fact this is not the case, "I am bladder hear me roar." Oh for God sake - I could go to the market or restaurants in the neighbourhood but then I'm locked out of the building entirely. This calls for some creativity - I'm going to have to think outside the box (probably well outside that of social convention).
So back down in the elevator I go - block the door again with my vest so I can access the parkade. I look around - AHA!!! a floor drain - even better, another one around the corner in case someone arrives home through the main doors while I'm committing this act. Ah..... sweet relief ........ oh shit! "I wonder if there are any security cameras down here?" "Oh well...... if so, this is going to be my on screen debut then, because there's no stopping now!"
Upon returning to the main floor I then received notification on my cell phone that I had missed a call from the property manager while in the concrete unground parking, I had no signal. I called her back (concluding there was no pressing reason to explain how I missed her call) and she said she was going to be in contact with the elevator maintenance people and see what could be done - then she'd call me back. So back to my front lobby vigil - what an odd experience, to be in my building but to have no access to my own home - my thoughts turned to homelessness - not that this brief "inconvenience" could replicate the myriad of ongoing realities that those on the streets must face. Obviously I was going to get back in - I just didn't know when. So if anything this illuminated my want of control and my reckoning that at present I had none (well except I could control what I thought and how I handled myself along the way). I also had the luxury of recognition from the other owners that happened by while I was hanging out in the lobby. They appeared to be somewhat puzzled, each doing a double take, that spoke for itself - "this isn't quite right, nobody hangs out in the lobby, but then they must have decided - "who cares I recognize him - he lives here, I guess he can do what he wants!"(of course that could be entirely my projection of what I think, they're thinking!) They more likely are just thinking about there own day and life.
The property manager called back - she says a rep (some executive of the elevator company) had to go to a meeting and he needed to go through my neighbourhood to get there. So he would drop by in about forty minutes. Yippee!! I was going to be liberated!!
He had apparently asked if I could both wait at the entrance to let him in and help him with the elevator door by holding it open when the time came. I replied - "As it turns out, present circumstances dictate that I pretty much remain right where I am!" "Right" she replies, "I guess you've had better days - I just meant, he would need someone to let him in."
Hearing this, I realized that my attempt at levity was being misread - I apologized saying, "I'm sorry, I was just trying to make light of the situation, I really appreciate your help and of course I will cooperate any way I can to resolve this."
"Well I hope your day get's better!" she says. I thanked her, but thought after hanging up - I would definitely prefer my keys were in my pocket than at the bottom of the elevator shaft, but "my day" wasn't really that bad! Interestingly she seemed to sound more upset about this than I was (or she thought I should be more upset about this than I was). Without question I can think of times and events in my life that were similar in nature but that absolutely were allowed to colour my perception of the day (maybe even for many days to follow) in some cases I could "relive" the experience well after the fact - just by recounting the story. This just wasn't like that - I had by now contacted my afternoon appointment, told him the whole story and indicated depending on timing, I might not be available for our meeting. Again I felt the freedom and relief of just telling the truth. Yes I felt - some degree of self-consciousness as I texted the message, but then I thought, it actually doesn't matter what he thinks or if he believes me, this actually is what happened. My reference to life being more entertaining than fiction directly applies here - I actually thought at one point, I'm like my own sit-com! Good screen-writing might be hard-pressed to come up with a more amusing story. I have a fairly active imagination but it generally doesn't engage in "a story" quite as elaborate as this one (just to get out of a meeting).
A fellow arrived at the door a short while later - and introduced himself as the elevator company rep. We walked the short distance to the elevator door during which time he demonstrated himself to be generous and gracious of spirit. Without me saying anything he said "you wouldn't believe how frequently this sort of thing happens." (His comment - of course was reassuring, even though by now, overwhelming, my feeling was relief rather than concern). I was grateful he was not the sort to "kick a man when he's down" - sadly there are those (often men) that while unconsciously engaged in "one-upmanship" they do a pretty good job of "shaming" one another. Perhaps in recounting his day he would speak of the "dufus" and his keys - but he seemed empathetic at the moment.
We went down to the basement where he stuck a special tool in a small hole in the door (which looks like a "peep-hole" in regular doors) this somehow gets the elevator to rise above ground level so when you hold the doors open you can now jump down in the shaft under the car. He was in and out of there in two minutes. He then informed me that he was glad he was available to do this because if one of the elevator techs made a "service call" it would have cost $150.00 - which he said he couldn't justify charging. More cause for gratitude!!
Interesting to me the "challenges" I have with keys. Over my time in this building I have run out to the neighborhood store (and reasoned I don't need to lock my apartment door - "I'll only be 10 min.") only to discover when I came to get back in the building, my reasoning apparently included I didn't need keys - so I needed to buzz a neighbour to get in. Another time I took both the front door key and my unit key loose in my pocket while I went running (so I wouldn't have the "bulky key ring.") As I was returning I put my hand in my pocket to discover a hole and only one of the two keys remaining (again I had to buzz the neighbour to get in the main door). Now this latest key fiasco! Too frequent to be "random" in my mind - what is the lesson here? Perhaps drawing my attention to the need to be more consistently mindful.
There seems to be a theme around me being "locked" out - I'm on one side of a doorway that I perceive to be blocking me from where I want to be. But just as I can choose how I view any given circumstance (i.e. "my day is ruined" or "okay these are the circumstances - what needs to happen now.") so perhaps the "key" to the locked door (the blocks - the perception of limited) is me.
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