For anyone who didn't see David Letterman's take on this (And
it's a true story...)
On a recent weekend in Atlantic City, a woman won a bucketful of
quarters at a slot machine. She took a break from the slots for
dinner with her husband in the hotel dining room. But first she
wanted to stash the quarters in her room "I'll be right back and
we'll go to eat, "she told her husband and carried the coin-laden
bucket to the elevator. As she was about to walk into the elevator
she noticed two men already board. Both were black. One of them was
tall...very tall...an intimidating figure. The woman froze. Her
first thought was: These two are going to rob me.
Her next thought was: Don't be a bigot, they look like perfectly
nice gentlemen. But racial stereotypes are powerful, and fear
immobilized her. She stood and stared at the two men. She felt
anxious, flustered and ashamed. She hoped they didn't read her mind
but Gosh, they had to know what she was thinking!!! Her hesitation
about joining them in the elevator was all too obvious now.
Her face was flushed. She couldn't just stand there, so with a
mighty effort of will she picked up one foot and stepped forward
and followed with the other foot and was on the elevator. Avoiding
eye contact, she turned around stiffly and faced the elevator doors
as they closed.
A second passed, and the another second, and then another. Her fear
increased! The elevator didn't move. Panic consumed her. My God,
she thought, I'm trapped and about to be robbed! Her heart
plummeted. Perspiration poured from every pore.
Then one of the men said, "Hit the floor."
Instinct told her to do what they told her. The bucket of quarters
flew upwards as she threw out her arms and collapsed on the
elevator floor. A shower of coins rained down on her. Take my money
and spare me, she prayed.
More seconds passed. She heard one of the men say politely, "Ma'am,
if you'll just tell us what floor you're going to, we'll push the
button."
The one who said it had a little trouble getting the words out. He
was trying mightily to hold in a belly laugh. The woman lifted her
head and looked up at the two men. They reached down to help her
up. Confused, she struggled to her feet.
"When I told my friend here to hit the floor," said the average
sized one,
"I meant that he should hit the elevator button for our floor. I
didn't mean
for you to hit the floor, ma'am." He spoke genially. He bit his
lip. It was obvious he was having a hard time not laughing.
The woman thought: My God, what a spectacle I've made of myself.
She was too humiliated to speak. She wanted to blurt out an
apology, but words failed her. How do you apologize to two
perfectly respectable gentlemen for behaving as though they were
going to rob you? She didn't know what to say. The three of them
gathered up the strewn quarters and refilled her bucket.
When the elevator arrived at her floor they then insisted on
walking her to her room. She seemed a little unsteady on her feet,
and they were afraid she might not make it down the corridor. At
her door they bid her a good evening. As she slipped into her room
she could hear them roaring with laughter as they walked back to
the elevator. The woman brushed herself off. She pulled herself
together and went downstairs for dinner with her husband.
The next morning flowers were delivered to her room - a dozen
roses.
Attached to EACH rose was a crisp one hundred dollar bill. The card
said:
"Thanks for the best laugh we've had in years."
It was signed;
Eddie Murphy
Michael Jordan
