I landed on the wrong planet

The bell chimed as he walked in for the second time. "Hey! It's been a while," said the man at the bar. "I need a drink," said he as he shook his head, trying to dispel the uncomfortable truth repeatedly spanking him sensuously. And that is how we find our hero, sipping something muddy on another planet.

Name:
Location: Yaadhum Oore. Yaavarum Kelir

I am a bad imitation of don Quixote.

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Going down?

There's something the matter with elevators. Something fishy is afoot.

I am sure you have had this feeling. You get into an elevator with someone, and all life ceases as the elevator moves. This doesn't happen with strangers alone. Even friends find it difficult to converse in an elevator.

But the problem doesn't end there. Try getting into an elevator alone. Don't conciously think about what I am going to say here. You will find that you stop communicating with yourself in an elevator!

So, what's happening here? Is it our premordial sense of claustrophobia that shuts our mind from attacks? Does this mean mankind isn't meant to ride on elevators?

I prefer the open sky above me. Not some caged fan with a note that says, "Eight people only!" I feel caged myself.

I remember elevators that appear in Hitchhikers' Guide. Vertical People Transporters, they were called. I wish we could have such elevators. That would break the monotony.

A final word. The exhaust fans in elevators don't work fast enough.

Confused Martian's Pneumatic Conjecture :
The probability of farting is directly proportional to the number of people in an elevator and inversely proportional to the openness of the chamber.