City Hall Elevator Music - Part 1

First in an occasional series...

Metrolink, my friends, is a gift. I take it most mornings to the City Hall phallus, skirting the aggravating traffic of the Golden State Freeway, through a thoroughly ugly section of Glendale, and past the sludge that is the Los Angeles River.

This morning, I took the 8:35 am train from the downtown Burbank station (which arrived at 8:39, natch.) This is the late train, empty but for myself, the conductor and a surly-looking Asian dude with wraparound sunglasses.

And, indeed, I was late. Late because I had to return an unwanted, unordered and overpriced cell phone to the overloads at T-Mobile. That story, though long, is uninteresting, and I shall not share it here.

I got to City Hall at about 9:10 a.m. Late, but not so late that my tardiness would be noticed. The sun was (and is) shinning, and the weather forecast was for a 70-degree day. Add in the fact that it's Friday, and you have a happy and content bureaucrat.

Not so much with my elevator-mate this morning. The doors of the express elevator swung open, revealing a woman, blankly staring ahead. After determining she did not plan to exit, I stepped in.

"Good morning," I said.

"Mmm," she said.

"It's a beautiful day," I said. "Supposed to be nice all weekend. Gotta love LA."

"Oh," she said. "Where are you visiting from?"

"Umm," I replied, confused. "Burbank? I work here."

The elevator dinged, alerting all and sundry that we had reached the third floor. The woman exited without a word.