Run

The ancient, groaning elevator is one of the best places in the hotel to meet interesting people.  In fact, you may get to know them better than you’d like to, if, as occurs with some frequency, the elevator breaks down between floors.  One day last week I was in the elevator with Maurice, a classical pianist.  We had just gotten on in the lobby, and the door was nearly closed, when an arm shot into the small crack, and the door sprung back open again.  A young man bounded onto the elevator.  Tall and muscular, he was dressed in an expensive track suit, gold jewelry.  His eyes were wide, the pupils dilated, and he was manic, hyperactive, gesticulating wildly as he spoke in a non-stop stream: “I’m looking for Walter in 536.  I really need to talk to him.  I’m supposed to be staying at his place, and he knows this but I don’t know where he is.  He was supposed to let me in.  I’ve been looking for him all day and I can’t find him.”  Despite his crazed aspect, I thought I detected a note of cunning in his eyes.

“I don’t know him,” I said.

“I don’t either,” Maurice said.

“A short, balding man, with glasses.  Room 536.  You couldn’t miss him.  Have you lived here long?  You look like you have.  You must know him.  I’ve got to find him. It’s very important.”

We assured him once again that we didn’t know Walter.

“If you see Walter, you’ve got to give him my message.  It’s very important, please see that he gets my message.”  He got off on the fifth floor, apparently to wait for Walter.  I noticed that somehow, for all that, he had forgotten to say what the message was.

When the door had closed and we were safely underway, I laughed and said, “Well, I guess if I ever meet Walter, I’ll give him the message.”

“Oh, I know Walter,” Maurice said.

“You do?”

“Sure.  He’s a poet.  Room 536, like he said.”

“So are you going to give him the message?”

“Yeah, I’ll give him the message: Run.”

Copyright 2006 Ed Hamilton