The Story of Matthew Six
Oddly enough, when we lived in the funny little coastal town in North Carolina, our apartment was in this swell building that was about 7 stories tall and had an elevator. Now living in NYC, we live in a 5 story tall building with no elevator.
Living with an elevator is different.
There is something wacky about having to deal with an elevator on a daily basis when you grew up in a house with a yard and a dog. But, whatever. The thing is, if you live with an elevator, you stare at whatever is in it everyday. In this elevator I stared at the little safety sheet / inspection thing.
The elevators in our town (all 3 of them probably) were inspected by a person named "Matthew Six". Everyone in the building all agreed that Matthew Six was the coolest name ever, and that he should be a rock star or something and not an elevator inspector in our small town.
Everyday, I would ride the elevator and wonder what Matthew Six looked like. I mean, just based on the name I was imaging someone pretty friggin cool - probably could wear sunglasses all the time and wouldn't look stupid. Probably orders interesting drinks at a bar. Probably could entertain you with stories of his amazing exploits - possibly involving the CIA or KISS. Or both.
I was working at this camera shop, and it by chance had an elevator. One of those cool old-school frieght elevators that you had to 'drive' yourself. Everyone there tried to be the best elevator operator and would brag about there skills of stopping and lining up the elevator. I was ok at it. Many times at night, I would get spooked being there by myself and my elevator driving skills would go out the window. All you would hear is the 'rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr' of the elevator stopping and starting as I constantly missed my mark.
Being that you are a smart person, I assume that you have some idea where this story is leading, so I will move it along as they say.
The Day
One day, a man comes in to the shop (or shoppe). A man that in hindsight looks very much like my 'robot journal' picture (I just realized that - weird).
"Hey, I am here to check the elevator."
"ok, it's in the back, right through that door."
"oh, I know the way, I have been here before."
He turns to walk, and I realize who might be.
"Excuse me, but are you Matthew Six?"
"um, yes"
"Oh my god!", I squeal like a girl.
He looks shocked. I quickly explain my history with him as this icon to my friends and I. He looks even more shocked.
I look down and notice that he has a fancy, handmade leather belt. The kind guys who would fix things would have. Not a tool belt, but a pants belt, and it has designs and things on it. It also has his name on it in big letters.
"Matthew Six"
I ask him if I can buy his belt. He thinks I am kidding. Oh well.
So, I follow him back to the elevator and he tells me how great our elevator is and it's the best in town. He seems to enjoy the work he does.
Last time I was there at the camera shoppe, I noticed that his name wasn't on the inspection tag. I hope he is doing well - inspecting elevators and wearing that belt.
Bush
Bush is at the UN right now. I realized this on my way to eat my lunch down by the river. Police everywhere. I think this is his speech about "Remember, you're either with me or the terrorists, who have no pudding"
Forging Documents
I watched these two teens forging some recommendation form for some school on the train. They had one, which I assume they had borrowed from a friend, and were copying it to their own. They practiced the signature over and over again. I could read the recommendation, and it was hilarious - something like:
"I am an RN in Russia. I very much like to recommend blah blah. They are studying medicine and very good students"
I wanted to say, "why are you copying all the errors in grammar? Why don't you fix it?"
