Murphy Was An Optimist

         When I got on the elevator, it felt crowded, even though I only made six of us and I was on crutches.  My eyes strayed to the license as I turned around and pushed the button for the fifteenth floor.  Maximum capacity eight persons, I read.  Who did they think they were fooling?
         The elevator started to rise very slowly.  I thought I would have made better time on the stairs.  The floor numbers blinked slowly on the display, eliciting muffled complaints.
         “Damn, this is taking forever,”a man complained.
         “I told you we should have booked another hotel...,” the woman next to him hissed, and he grunted back.
         The elevator groaned in protest as it stopped at the fifth floor.  The doors slid open, revealing a short man in a plaid, green suit.  “Finally,” the man smiled as he stepped into the elevator.  He pressed the button for the lobby, and the doors wheezed closed.
         “We’re going up, buddy,” the man behind me said pointedly.
         “Not a problem,” the plaid dressed man turned to face him.  “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for an elevator to come along?”
         “Way too long,” another man commented.
         “Anything to get away from the misses,” the plaid dressed man sighed.  “Seems I can’t do anything to please her today.”
         “Seems we all have that problem,” the woman on my left said curtly.  The others glared at her as the elevator rose.  “What’s your problem?” the woman’s voice had a bitter edge.  “You’re standing there bitching about it.  Why not just admit it out loud?”
         “Oh, Gawd,” the well dressed man with a Boston accent rolled his eyes.  “Another social inept.”  I moved toward the corner of the elevator.  If the conversation was going to get nasty, I didn’t want to be in the middle of it.  Figuratively or literally.
         “That’s right,” the plaid dressed man agreed.  “It doesn’t hurt anything to talk things out.  Worse things have happened.”
         “What if doing so offends those present?” the Boston man asked.  “The world doesn’t need to share in your problems, mister.”
         “So you don’t watch the news on the telly?” the plaid man cut him off.  “That no more than viewing each other’s dirty laundry.”
         “That’s nothing,” the woman, now on my right, sounded disgusted.  “I came all the way down here from Minneapolis on business.  My boss didn’t want to deal with this client.  I’ve negotiated my ass off, and worked out a deal, only to be told by my boss that I’m fired.  Now I’m a thousand miles away from home, no job, and no way to get home again.”
         “Well, bully for you,” the Boston man turned his back on all of us.
         “I’ve been through worse,” the plaid dressed man said easily.  “Stranded halfway around the world, if fact.  You know, bad things do happen every now and then.”
         “Yeah, like what?” the first man asked.  “This was supposed to be a vacation, and it’s turning out to be a nightmare.”
         “Oh?” the woman on my right challenged.
         “Seems that stupid here was caught in a scam on the internet,” the woman who had hissed at him said angrily.  “Our cruise ship didn’t even have our reservation when we got there.”  She turned angrily to the man next to her.  “All expenses paid.  Luxury cabins on the top deck.  Twenty days all around the Carribean.  Not what I really wanted, but you insisted we couldn’t pass this deal up.  Now we’re stuck in this cheap hotel with no money and nothing to do, not even shopping. All we can do is sit and stare at the walls.”
         “It was supposed to be a great deal,” the man protested angrily.  “How was I supposed to know it was a scam?”  The woman huffed deeply, turning away from him.
         The plaid clothed man didn’t seem ruffled.  “Me and the misses, we’ve have been on a few wild rides.  But trust me, things could be worse than that.”
         “I don’t see how,” the woman said darkly.
         At the eighth floor the elevator doors opened slowly.  The remaining couple who had not spoken now said “excuse me,” as they left.  They weren’t happy, and this wasn’t their floor.  I had half a mind to follow them and continue up the stairs myself.
         A young girl was hurrying to catch us, but the Boston man glared at her as she approached the doors.  She stopped with a look of consternation on her face.  The doors closed in front of her, and the elevator continued upwards.
         “What about you?” the plaid clothed man turned to me.
         “I’ve just got out of the hospital,” I said.  “I’ve broken my leg.”  It should have been obvious, I thought.
         “It doesn’t look too bad,” the plaid clothed man smiled at me.  I was beginning to wonder if he was really sane.
         “It hurts like hell,” I replied.
         “I’ll bet it does,” the Boston man replied.  “I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.” he said to the plaid clothed man.
         “Sean Murphy,” the plaid clothed man took a business card out of the pocket of his coat and gave it to him.  “I’m here for the Optimists’ Club convention.”
         “Really?” the Boston man wasn’t impressed as he accepted the card.
         “Yes,” Sean Murphy replied.  “Having a positive attitude does a world of good.  You never know when something is going to go wrong, you know.”
         “Perhaps,” the Boston man temporized, “but you don’t have to go looking for it, Mr. Murphy.”
         The elevator stopped at the fifteenth floor.  Finally I could get away.  My room was just down the hall, and I really only wanted to lie down.  The elevator doors closed behind me as I hobbled down the hall.  Thank God for small favors.  I was opening the my door when I heard the loud snap, the screeching and the crash from the elevator shaft behind me.

990 words