When to do it and when not to do it, those are the questions. I live in a building with over 250 apartments. That’s easily 350 people plus dogs as it’s a dog friendly building. There’s a revolving door, a door accessible with a fob and 24 hour doorman coverage. So you’d think things are more than covered. Oh hell no they ain’t.
The doormen are constantly engaged in conversation about the Eagles or the Phillies or any team I’m not on. Now if you’re walking your dog, you may have an incoming person while you are outgoing with a maniac out of her mind pulls like a sled dog pet. They have to yield lest they’re into ankle bondage. Plus, my dog actually pushes the door open with her nose (it’s a gold heavily weighted door) to speed up her escape. On the way back, you might get a doorman who’ll either buzz you in or even open the door for you. But for the other 29 days per month, you’re pretty much on your own. Ya gotta find your swipe, swipe it, wait for the woman with the British accent to declare Door Open and still pull the door open while my dog yet again charges the door dashing for the elevators. Now I appreciate her eagerness to please and when it comes to peeing and pooping, she’s perfection personified. Not one booboo since we moved in.
H
ere’s a popular scenario. You’re in the elevator with your dog on leash when someone yells hold the door, hold the door and then barges in with a Rottweiler or (worse) Chihuahua. They’re obnoxious and they don’t meet my standards for “real dog” and never will. Real dogs don’t wear rhinestones. Maybe a hamster. Not a dog. So for twenty floors we’ve got a quartet that can swing in any direction possible. Of course the hamster owner wants them to get all cozy but I don’t at all go that way lest they have an updated immunization record in their pocket. No rabies tag? Get the hell away. My dog tends to hover behind me when there’s others in the elevator but that’s not good enough for some. A woman once suggested a play date and I know I rolled my eyes.
The final straw is my fault. I bought a pretty large collar that says STELLA so the anonymity deal is shot. I gotta get something far more discreet.
Inquisitive Woman: Oh is she a Stella Artois gal? Stella Dora cookie lover?
Cranky Man ( me ): Tennessee Williams.
This usually shuts ’em up and as the elevator door opens I say have a nice night to their quickly exiting backside. Aside from the funky door and elevator etiquette, do these people need to start a book club? Yeesh.
Read something.