My elevator story =o)

[Guest guest]

In a way I think that story teaches us volumes - words can never express

what happened... and what that woman felt is so true of many of us. We

stereotype so easily. When I was 5 I got on an elevator ion Buenos Aires,

Argentina - we had just moved there and were looking for a house -

meanwhile we were staying in the ritzy hotel. Onto the elevator walked

the largest woman I had ever seen and she, too, was black. She was the

first black person I had ever seen, so naturally I was curious. I turned

to my mom and asked why her skin was that color, had she gotten a

sunburn, well the lady whopped out in laughter and took me in her arms,

my mom was explaining the whole thing to me, but seemed to have trouble

taking, it was ok because my ears were deaf to her, I only

heard the woman... she picked me up and held me tight and said this is

the way the good Lord made her, just as he had given me red hair. Then

she kissed me several times, handed me some chocolates. and set me down.

My mom held my hand tight and we got off the elevator. When we got into

our room my mother looked like she had seen a ghost. She told my father,

you'll never guess what happened in the elevator... at which point I

interrupted and said, yes this nice brown lady picked me up and gave me a

kiss and a hug and some candy. To which my mother turned to my dad and

said - that 'lady' was Pearl . I never understood why she was

such a special lady until I was much older.

jas

At 10:02 PM 4/10/00 -0500, you wrote:

That was cute and that is the way people are

now or should I say some. It is

sad but true that people are judged by color or what they look like. It

really is sad.

Tina

>From: " Aisha Elderwyn " <aisha@...>

>Reply-egroups

> " Being Sick Community List "

<onelist>

>Subject: Fw: Stereotypes

>Date: Tue, 11 Apr 2000 11:22:33 +1000

>

>

>Good story!

>

>For anyone who didn't see Letterman's take on this:

>(And it's a true story...)

>

>On a recent weekend in Atlantic City, a woman won a bucketful of

quarters

>at a slot machine. She took a break from the slots for dinner with

her

>husband in the hotel dining room. But first she wanted to stash the

>quarters in her room. " I'll be right back and we'll go to

eat, " she told

>her husband and carried the coin-laden bucket to the elevator.

>

>As she was about to walk into the elevator she noticed two men

already

>aboard. Both were black. One of them was big, very

big...an intimidating

>figure. The woman froze. Her first thought was:

These two are going to

>rob me. Her next thought was: Don't be a bigot, they look like

perfectly

>nice gentlemen. But racial stereotypes are powerful, and fear

immobilized

>her.

>

>She stood and stared at the two men. She felt anxious, flustered and

>ashamed. She hoped they didn't read her mind-but God, they had

to know

>what she was thinking! Her hesitation about joining them in the

elevator

>was all too obvious now. Her face was flushed. She couldn't just

stand

>there,so with a mighty effort of will she picked up one foot and

stepped

>forward and followed with the other foot and was on the

elevator.

>

>Avoiding eye contact, she turned around stiffly and faced the

elevator

>doors as they closed. A second passed, and then another second, and

then

>another.

>

>Her fear increased!

>

>The elevator didn't move. Panic consumed her. My God, she

thought, I'm

>trapped and about to be robbed! Her heart plummeted. Perspiration

poured

>from every pore. Then one of the men said, " Hit the floor. "

Instinct told

>her to do what they told her. The bucket of quarters flew upwards as

she

>threw out her arms and collapsed on the elevator floor. A shower of

coins

>rained down on her. Take my money and spare me, she prayed. More

seconds

>passed. She heard one of the

>men say politely, " Ma'am, if you'll just tell us what floor

you're going

>to, we'll push the button. " The one who said it had a little

trouble

>getting the words out.

>

>He was trying mightily to hold in a belly laugh. The woman lifted her

head

>and looked up at the two men. They reached down to help her up.

>

>Confused, she struggled to her feet.

>

> " When I told my friend here to hit the floor, " said the

average sized one,

> " I meant that he should hit the elevator button for

>our floor.

>

>I didn't mean for you to hit the floor, ma'am. " He spoke

genially.

>

>He bit his lip. It was obvious he was having a hard time not

laughing.

>

>The woman thought: My God, what a spectacle I've made of myself. She

was

>too humiliated to speak. She wanted to blurt out an apology,

but words

>failed her. How do you apologize to two perfectly respectable

gentlemen

>for behaving as though they were going to rob you? She

didn't know what

>to say. The three of them gathered up the strewn quarters and

refilled her

>bucket. When the elevator arrived at her floor they insisted on

walking her

>to her room. She seemed a little unsteady on her

>feet, and they were afraid she might not make it down the corridor.

At her

>door they bid her a good evening. As she slipped into her room

she could

>hear them roaring with laughter as they walked back to the

elevator. The

>woman brushed herself off. She pulled herself together and went

downstairs

>for dinner with her husband.

>

>The next morning flowers were delivered to her room-a dozen roses.

Attached

>to EACH rose was a crisp one hundred dollar bill. The card said:

" Thanks

>for the best laugh we've had in years. " It was signed, Eddie

&

> Jordan

>

>

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