One of the many advantages of being the only people in a 250+ unit building who are not collecting Social Security is that we generally have the common areas and facilities to ourselves after 7pm. The roof, the laundry machines, the mailboxes, the lobby that looks and smells like a 1940's hospice care facility, all of it! While we actively refrain from running naked through the hallways (for a good many reason), imagine our dismay when our 11pm elevator journey homeward was interrupted by someone on the 17th floor seeking to go, in all directions, upwards.
"Laundry", I said to B as the elevator came to an unusual stop on the 17th floor.
"Maybe not", B replied.
I rolled my eyes. As if there could be another reason to head upwards from floor 17 at this ungodly hour where only heathens and junkies travel the Earth? Pttth.
The door opened and a guy in his late 20's came aboard. I figured he must be visiting his great grandma or something. B, not usually so outgoing, addressed the dude by half-assedly looking over his shoulder at him and inquiring: "laundry"?
The dude responded:
After a floor and a half of stunned, elevated silence B and I both looked at the dude and said, "space station"?!
No, we didn't accidentally board the Wonkavator and blast off into orbit at the hands of this bespectacled stranger. Nor was he the captain of the Great Space Coaster. Though either would have been a feasible conclusion to our outlandishly ridiculous weekend which at this point was teetering on hallucinogenic. Long story short, we met the only other occupants of the building who are not collecting Social Security. They also are avid (if not inaccurate) astronomers and tribal tattooed smokers of Camel regulars.
At least during early bird specials, bingo away games, and the Aurora Borealis we'll still have the place to ourselves.