We took a wonderful family vacation out West this summer, and during the trip we spent a couple days in Las Vegas. This brought back memories of the most embarrassing thing I have ever said in my life, which occurred the last time I was in Sin City 20 years ago.
For me, coming up with my most embarrassing moment is like trying to identify a single grain of sand on a very large beach. There are just so many to choose from. But this one really seems to be the Mother of All Embarrassing Things to Say.
We were on a family vacation, and we stayed at one of the top floors of a Vegas hotel. I believe we had just packed everything up as we prepared to check out, and we headed for the elevator.
As we waited for the elevator’s arrival, we could hear a weird noise, as though wind was whipping through the elevator shaft. The noise was much more amplified when the elevator arrived and the doors opened.
We got in, joining a few other people for the ride to the ground floor. The weird, windy noise was really quite piercing, and I decided to violate Rule #1 of the Elevator Code of Conduct: I decided to say something out loud. So I looked over at my brother and said, “Geez, it sounds like the elevator is snoring!”
Well, before I had even finished that sentence – before the “-ing” part of the word “snoring” had even finished escaping my mouth – I realized what was going on. Turns out the severely elderly man on the other side of the elevator had a tracheotomy, and was breathing out of an air hole in his neck. And the sound of his breath moving in and out of the air hole was, well, much like the sound of an elevator snoring.
It’s moments like this where it would be ideal to simply burst into flames and die, but unfortunately I wasn’t that lucky. Instead, the man’s presumably soon-to-be widow glared at me while the rest of my family instantly edged away from me, as though they had no idea who I was.
On top of everything else, this elevator was apparently being operated by a team of really lazy hamsters, as it very s-l-o-w-l-y descended to the ground floor. I began to wonder if there may have actually been a problem with the Earth’s gravitational pull that day, prolonging the ride for what seemed like an eternity.
From that point on, I have avoided talking in an elevator. Granted, I’ll still fart in them from time to time and pretend someone else did it, but that’s about it.
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