short attention span theater

I was on my way out the other day and got on the elevator. Two men were already inside, but no buttons were pushed. I pushed my button and took a step back. In my building, you don't want to stand too close to most people in the elevator. The guy in the corner started rubbing his crotch while staring at me. Not adjusting himself surreptitiously, but outright rubbing himself over his jeans and balls-out staring. Was he one of the sixteen registered sex offenders living in my building? I chose to ignore him, pretending I didn't see him rubbing himself as if he were the masturbating bear on Conan.

The other guy in the elevator stood near the front of the car, facing me at a slight angle, smiling. He looked like Mr. Rogers, if Mr. Rogers were on the Night Train Express. The elevator stopped on his floor, he smiled broadly and said, "Have a nice day," as he walked out. I was a bit anxious about riding six more floors alone in the elevator with this guy. But lately I've been a seething cauldron of anger, so if anyone acts the least bit inappropriately, I have no doubt I will overreact and kick the living shit out of him/her until my leg gets tired. So I rode, almost wishing he'd try something so I could take my aggression out on someone who deserved an ass-kicking. But as soon as the other guy left us alone in the elevator, the perv stopped rubbing himself.

To my relief, the elevator stopped a couple floors below and another guy got on. I've seen this guy around before and he'd always been friendly and seemed somewhat normal. Relatively normal. Who am I kidding? He was a freak. A friendly, non-intimidating freak, but a freak nevertheless. He looked at the both of us and asked, "Do you guys like meat?" Poker-faced, I shrugged indifferently. I don't think the question registerd with the perv, but he started rubbing himself again. "I got steaks, I got chops, I got some ground beef. I got them in my room, I'm in room 426 if you're interested." I shook my head, "No thanks, I just went grocery shopping." He looked at the perv rubbing himself in the corner, looked him up and down, but chose to ignore the contstant rubbing.

The buzzer went off, and I was at my floor. Perv was still rubbing himself and I was torn - should I stay and see how this all plays out? I had places to go, so I exited and imagined ways to work that short ride into a screenplay.

Later that day, I rode the elevator at 1901 Avenue of the Stars in Century City. Other elevators in this city are so boring, comparatively speaking.