Door of Death

Door of Death

Nick was a dear and dropped me off at work this morning, right at the front door where I almost never enter since I usually drive myself and enter through the parking garage. Anyway, I grabbed my purse, my keys and my warm and delicious latte and headed for the door.

The main entrance is a revolving door that I despise. I usually try to avoid revolving doors because I'm a little bit afraid of them, afraid that I'll trip or get my purse stuck or something else entirely embarrassing. And it seems like they all have to be glass, putting you right there in the center of the action, conveniently on display for everyone to watch.

There's a sign next to the revolving door that reads, "Please use revolving door." I always ignore this helpful recommendation. Bah, I'd like to see you MAKE me, office building management! I laugh at the mere suggestion of using that door. Feeling quite invincible and a little bit drunk off of my rebellion, I headed for one of the two normal doors that flank the revolving door.

Now let me just say that it was a fairly windy morning here in Kansas City. With my hands rather full, I struggled to open the door, but apparently a huge gust of wind had something else in mind for my increasingly theatrical entrance. I had just enough of the door open for my left arm and shoulder to make it through when it suddenly slammed shut on me. I was partially stuck in the door, trying to quickly summon all my strength and willpower to get it open again because, dudes, it is embarrassing to be stuck in the door flailing around, all while a slew of business professionals strut through the lobby. I pushed and struggled with all of my might for what felt like at least 10 seconds. It didn't budge an inch, not until the wind let up ever-so-slightly. I eventually made it through and tried to recover as though nothing had just happened, which duh, what was I thinking, no one could miss THAT entrance.

I turned around to look back and see if Nick had witnessed my little door mishap. I could actually see him in the car, physically convulsing because he was laughing so hard. I'm sure I rode the elevator up to my floor a bright shade of red, and then immediately sat down at my desk to write Nick an email:

What's the deal? My knight in shining armor just laughs at me and drives off, leaving me to fend for myself with the DOOR OF DEATH!

You see, I'm nothing if not dramatic, which I'm sure is a quality that Nick finds completely endearing.

So you're probably asking what I have learned from all of this. [heartwarming after-school special music up and under] First, I've learned to not plan blog posts because when you have absolutely nothing to write about, chances are good that you'll go ahead and make a fool of yourself in the very near future, providing ample material. Secondly, you should never completely trust your brave husband, your protector, to be there for you in a time of need. I now must buff up my upper body so I can swiftly and quickly open my own doors from here on out. And lastly, you can bet that from now on I'm going to be carefully following all posted rules and using the stupid revolving door already. Tripping or getting my belongings stuck is a small price to pay for not having the Door of Death amputate one of my appendages.