Cranberry and Vodka

“Hello”

It was me. I was in an elevator at the Canvas Hotel in Moncton, New Brunswick. I had gone down to the hotel bar to get some cranberry juice. I wanted it for my vodka.

Four young guys came in the elevator, well young to me, they were 30’ish. They were all lit up, buddies – having a great night out. I knew right away that the visual of a 76 year old man carefully cradling a plastic container full to the brim with cranberry juice was too good for them to pass up. To make matters worse (or funnier, depending on one’s perspective) I had been trying to get off on the 3rd floor but the elevator had opened on the 9th, where the hotel bar was.

“Where you going with that cranberry?”

“Well, the 3rd floor” I said, knowing I was feeding the moment.

“The 3rd floor?!” and they all laughed, “Little off course, aren’t you?”

“Yes, keep on missing with my card.”

“Here, let me give you a hand.” And with that one of the men took my card and tried to activate for the third floor. It didn’t work for him either. He gave it back to me.

As they got off the elevator in the lobby I heard them all howl with laughter.

“That old guy will probably be there when we get back.”

Laughter.

“He’s gonna be there all night.”

Laughter.

“With his cranberry.”

More laughter, as they faded into the night.

And there I was with my cranberry, feeling saddened, a little picked on. Whatever that was, it didn’t seem fair. Pretty sure those young guys all have dads. They should know better.

On the other hand, in fairness, the image of a silver haired old man cradling his plastic mug of cranberry juice, caught in an elevator, unable to get off is hilarious.

Particularly if I was an unkind thirty year old out with his bros.

Hmmm – don’t know why I wrote this. I think I thought I’d feel better, but I don’t. Unkindness has always confused me. I’m sure I’ve been guilty of it at some point but it’s not typical for me.

I’ve always pulled people’s legs. Even my young grandchildren have not been spared. Done properly, and with a good heart, it draws people closer, let’s them know you’re part of my group, and I like you. Done with any malice at all let pulling is just hurtful. I came to understand much later in life, after I was on the wrong end of it.

Many, many years ago I was new in radio and not very good at all. By chance and serendipity, I was part of a radio morning show. I loved it from Day 1. My co-host Jon was a very funny man, very funny, one of those men who could make me laugh at the drop of a hat and he did, on-air. But I soon enough realized that Jon was making fun of me, not making fun with me. Now laughter in a radio morning show is a good thing, so I had found my niche. I was like Jimmy Kimmel’s sidekick Guillermo, someone I’ve always felt some affinity too. His role is to be the butt of the joke. When the joke is shared and equal it’s fun to be a part of but when there is no balance, when the person being made fun off is no more than that, it is just unkind. When I came to understand that with Jon, two things happened. I confronted Jon directly and made it clear that if I had to pay a personal price for a laugh, it was not going to happen. The second thing? I stopped making people pay a price when I pulled their legs. I became kinder.

My ride in that elevator in Moncton, New Brunswick took me all the way back there.

The Spanish surrealist Salvadore Dali painted an image of a woman with drawers coming out of her, up and down her body. I think it’s one of his great paintings. We all have drawers that we close and put away, only to have them open up by themselves years later, triggered by some event, often random.

This random event in an elevator somewhere between the 9th and 3rd floor of the Canvas Hotel in Moncton, New Brunswick opened a drawer.