Well All Be...

My brush with ... something

I spent the two or so hours before work getting hammered at the local dive. I knew I was ready to work when the horror of Philadelphia became quaint to me.
When I had finished selling theater tickets via guerilla telemarketing I left my space and made for the elevator. I noticed an old man beat me to it. It was Edward Albee. I followed him in and the doors shut. He swayed with old age, and I with jameson.
The elevator door opened. A face popped it's head in and said, 'going up?'
Albee said, 'no,' and the elevator doors closed.
A short time later the doors opened again and what looked like the same face said, 'going up?'
Albee again said, "no," and the doors closed. We waited for some time and the doors opened again. Albee strode out. We were still on the floor we originated on. He re entered the elevator.
"Your're not confused, the world is," I said. He chuckled and pushed a button. It was for the floor we were on and when the doors opened again, he nearly stepped out again.
"Republican conspiracy," he muttered. He pushed the right button this time; the ground floor and we descended. When we reached the ground floor we both exited.
"Watch that revolving door, it's a duezey." I said.
Albee patted his pockets, "I forgot my keys." He got back on the elevator.
"See you in thirty years," I said and went back to the bar.