It is time that I got it out. It has been long enough that I have let this boil inside of me and now it needs to be put out there for all to see.
The closest metro exit to me happens to be an elevator. I rarely take it because, well, the following story you are about to read and because I don’t like being lazy all the time. There are the rare occurrences that I find myself in the long line of people who seem to have a brain but end up proving me otherwise–I have something heavy like a suitcase, I am sore, or yep… just plain lazy.
The concept is simple really. There is a weight limit and once that limit is reached, the elevator refuses to work. Now, to make it even easier, there is a big red light the illuminates when this weight limit is breached. However, it shocks me every time how many human beings not only cannot grasp this concept, but also have a struggle understanding when it is explained and illustrated for them.
“Monsieur, c’est trop lourd. Ça ne marchera pas. Vous avez besoin pour sortir,” (Of course while pointing at the illuminated red beacon of “get the f#$% out of the elevator”)
What follows? The parade of looks of bewilderment and sighs of confusion. I am still searching for simpler terms to explain this phenomenon of a weight limit. All suggestions are welcome. Until then the elevator will be avoided at all costs.