The Elevator

I live on the very top floor of my building. Its nothing special, not like those real penthouse apartments with swimming pools and stuff. And you certainly don't need a key or a code to access my floor via the elevator. I just happen to live on the very top floor and it means I have a more prominent view of the Irish ghettos right behind my fancy apartment building (which itself is situated in the fancy Financial Services Area). How come businesses and banks are right next to government housing? Stellar planning on behalf of whoever has that job.

Anyway, back to my point. Because I'm on the top floor it means that the elevator plays a very important role in my life. Whoever thought of putting human beings in a box and suspending them in the air using a pulley and counterbalance system.. you're fucking crazy. But it worked you loon! So Otis and Co. have made my life much easier by not having to tackle stairwells everytime I decide to leave my house and establish contact with the outside world.

If you look at my previous post titled "Shady Construction" you'll get a general feel for my building. Its nice, but its not the most well built and thought out. Apparently its not the most well maintained either, since the elevator has been (as of today) busted for two weeks. We used to get elevator functional distubances on a regular basis last year, but nothing that wouldn't get fixed within one or two days.

Over the last two weeks my fitness has improved tremendously. While previously I would arrive at the apartment door in a state of hyperventilation after climbing all those stairs, these days my breathing rate increases slightly but that's about it.

I wonder if I should send out a letter of complaint for the inconvenience, or a letter of thanks for the imposition of much needed exercise?

A Glimpse into the Future?

Over easter break I flew over to England to visit a friend. It wasn't much of an easter break to be honest, it included Good Friday and Easter monday as well as the weekend. None of that crazy two weeks stuff we used to get back in the day.

Anyway, checking in at the airport to fly back I was informed that due to some poor weather that morning the airline had diverted a flight to another airport and are therefore short on the planes they have flying to Ireland. This basically meant that I'll have to fly to Shannon first, land there and wait to refuel and unload some passengers, then fly back to Dublin. Inconvenience? You bet your damn ass it was. The whole journey took two and a half hours, rather than the normal one hour's time.

If you hadn't planned to fly for two and half hours (and are lacking in entertainment, because the book you brought along had just enough pages left in it to be finished in an hour.. exemplary planning if you ask me) then you could get pretty bored. My mind wandered and I started thinking about this whole ordeal. The whole thing reminded me of a flying bus.. and that's where the future got me excited.

No more traffic, no more waiting for red lights and no more damn pedestrians. With my amazing (but highly impractical) idea of PLUS (that's a combination plane+bus), I could now fly to wherever I wanted to go! Imagine the possibilities. I'd get to hospitals in no time, not having to wake up so much earlier just to make sure I catch whatever gravity-challenged mode of transport I intend to use. It would eliminate people's fear of flying too because it'd be so common! You wouldn't have to go to the airport two hours in advance and go through security checks and check your baggage in and all that nonsense. All you'd do is pay EUR1.50 to get to wherever you're going (cost based on average distance from my home to the hospital I'm currently attending.. maybe it'd be more expensive for you.. or cheaper.. who knows?) .. and you'd get there FAST!

And since I'm talking about the future, I thought I might technologically enhance this blog by including a diagram to explain my highly complex, yet breathtakingly simple, idea. Impressive, I know.. but then again I've always had an artistic touch.



Demonstration of diabolical idea.