So then…I adjust the shoulder strap of my leather briefcase. I’m taking an empty elevator back to my 28th floor hotel room after my business meeting on a sunny afternoon in Las Vegas. Important negotiations with lawyers today — so I’m in my grey business suit, white blouse, stockings, and sensible black pumps. I’m even wearing pearls today, so the corporate-executive look is complete.
The elevator stops on the 5th floor, home of the pools and spa – and in tumble four college kids obviously enjoying Spring Break in Vegas.
These four tall guys are all in swim trunks, tanned and shirtless, wet hair, laughing — and definitely stoned.
It’s just them and me in the elevator.
As the elevator rises, they giggle and whisper and fidget. There’s a small lull of silence and one of them says, “Wow, it smells a little like weed in here.”
They exchange glances and stifle laughter, since the pot aroma is definitely emanating from them – and they’re certain that they’ve shocked me, an uptight corporate woman.
I turn to them and say sincerely, “Oh, I’m sorry, that’s me.”
I shrug and say, “What’re you gonna do? Long client lunch.” I make the international gesture for toking a joint.
Ding. 28th floor.
I exit to whistles, whoops, and a “Damn — we should party with her!”
— Darcy Perdu
(Any funny elevator stories to share? Or perhaps a funny smokin’-weed story? (Ah, hell, ALL smokin’-weed stories are funny – especially if you ARE smokin’ weed!) Share a comment or story below!)