Friday, August 5, 2011

Let Me Close the Elevator, los hamat!

The manager of the apartment had a son, and he would run around the complex entertaining himself. He was a super sweet kid, and many times during one of our lobby meals he'd stick his head in the window and start talking in Arabic to us. He was a sweet kid, kind of hard to have a conversation with because his reply to every question you asked would be his name, but still. He was fun to play soccer in the alley with.

One day, we were done talking to him and wanted to go back to our apartment upstairs, so we get in the elevator and do that whole "ma'a salaama, bishofak" thing, (go in peace, see you later), and press the third floor. The door starts to close, but then reopens and we see the kid standing there pressing the button on the outside, like he wants to come up. Once he realizes the power he now has, he won't stop. So after five minutes of begging, we finally just pull him into the elevator with us. He's rather confused, as this isn't normal for him, but we go up, we get out, and we hit the zero floor button for him again to go back down. He just stood there and looked confused.

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