I’m all keyed up and alert. The weekend seemed so short because I knew I had to get into work early
on Monday morning. I even brought a number of files home and worked on them. Gee whiz, I mean
heck, the weekend just flew by. And now here I am, back in the lobby alone. The lobby is unusually
clean. The tiles sparkle. I’ve never been here this early. No one is around. It feels so odd to be here like
this. Traffic on the way in was unusually light. I know today isn’t a holiday, or at least it doesn’t feel
like a holiday, so it must be due to my early rising.
I wait as the elevator comes down. It dings and opens. I step forward to step in, anxious to get to work, to dig in, make a good impression, learn more of my craft, get things done, contribute. But then I have to stop abruptly. Lying sprawled on the floor of the elevator are two of my bosses – Andersen and Parkside. Empty beer bottles scatter around them. Some spill out into the lobby to spin and roll past my feet.
Andersen has two bottles held above his head. He is pouring beer into his mouth from both. Parkside’s head sways groggily. His eyes are half open. He gazes up at me, then finally says, “Come on, Davis, let’s get shit-faced.” He raises an arm feebly to form a fist above his head. His arm wobbles like a wet noodle.
Their suits are soaked and sloppily twisted. Their hair is matted and messed. They lay sprawled in a bath of amber bottles.
Andersen lowers both bottles, letting them spill all over him. “Woo-hoo,” he exhales weakly. His eyes are also half open. He has a lazy smile on his tired face. His leg flops down, scattering more empties into the lobby. They clink as they spin around me.
Instinctively I look at my watch. I look around to make sure no one is coming. I don’t want anyone to see them like this. I don’t want them to be embarrassed or get into trouble. They’re my bosses, but they’re OK bosses. They’re OK fellas, after all, and I want to protect them. I bend and reach to pull Parkside up. “Come on in,” he waves drunkenly.
“Yeah, come on, Davis, let’s party,” Andersen points at me. Parkside lazily reaches his leg up, half-heartedly kicking up at the control buttons. He doesn’t come within a foot of them. Then he looks about absentmindedly and slurs, “Little room must be broken.” A sad, disappointed expression swells across his big, sloppy face.
“Take us up, Captain,” Andersen spits groggily while trying to wave his arm, but it just flops into his lap as if it were broken. Parkside lifts an old eight-track tape player – a round red one, the size of a volleyball. He pushes a tape in dramatically and raises a defiant fist. “Ain’t ya ever been to a good ol’ fashioned elevator party before?” The opening chords to Ted Nugent’s “Free for all” chime out - “Na NananaNah - Na NananaNah - Na NananaNah” The music is loud and distorted as it warbles and stumbles around in the elevator cab.
“You guys sat in here and drank all night?” I bend my knees to lower myself, squatting before them. I hope they’re not too drunk. I get frustrated when I can’t connect with people. I’ve got so much work to do, I really don’t need this right now. I don’t want to see them get in trouble. I’ve seen way too much trouble for one life, way too many bad things. And I hate sitting around explaining things to other people, trying to unravel the unexplainable, trying to answer all those questions. I really don’t know what to do with this situation. I don’t want to ruffle any feathers, step on anyone’s toes.
“Naw,” Parkside shakes his head. “Not all night.”
Andersen looks over at Parkside and they both shake their heads, as if checking with one another, “Not all night. We ran around naked for a while.”
“That was fun,” Parkside nods dramatically.
“Through the halls, screaming and whooping,” nods Andersen.
“We watched ‘Planet Of The Apes’ a few times.” Parkside kicks away some empty paper bags from a fast food joint and empty potato chip bags to reveal a small old t.v. with a built-in tape player.
“Get yer stinkin’ paws off me, you damn dirty ape!” Andersen cries into the air, then kicks the side of the elevator and pounds his fist on the floor.
I look around nervously, down each side of the lobby. I check my watch again. They’ll be coming in soon. Maybe I can get them to sleep it off in a conference room or something. I reach to pick up a bottle, but it scoots away from me, bumping and clinking into other empty bottles on the slick, shiny tile floor. I pick one up, hold it close to me, then reach for another. “Na NananaNah - Na NananaNah - Na NananaNah” As I pick it up, the first bottle I am clutching to my chest falls through my arms and hits the tile floor with a loud clank. I reach for more, but they spin away, bouncing off my fingers. Andersen cracks open another beer with a lazy, relaxed smirk. He raises and presents it to me as a toast or salute. I see him mouth the word “Party” but he is saying it long and slow, to preserve its meaning as a proclamation in the air, a proclamation to eternity. “Pppaaarrrtttteeeeeeeeee,” he nods slowly and dramatically, really drawing it out. But I don’t hear him over the music. And that’s when I notice my watch. In astonishment I realize it is, in fact, not bright and early on a crisp Monday morning. It is actually Sunday morning! I slap my forehead in relief and drop back to sit on the floor. No wonder the weekend seemed so fast. No wonder there was barely any traffic. No wonder no one is around. It actually is Sunday morning. I had been too busy and keyed up to notice. The time just flew by. I worked super late on Friday night, and Saturday was just a warm flash that slipped through my shaky grasp.
I lean forward, back onto the balls of my feet, crouching, bottles slowly rolling around me, the ‘Nuge throbbing in the elevator. I reach to Parkside and he raises a frosty cold one up to me, his head nodding to the distorted, celebratory rhythms flashing in the air as Andersen grins and waves me aboard.
About the author
Tony Rauch has four books of short stories published – I’m right here (spout press), Laredo (Eraserhead Press), Eyeballs growing all over me . . . again (Eraserhead Press), and What if I got down on my knees? (Whistling Shade Press). Find him at: http://trauch.wordpress.com/
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