20 March 2012
Story #510
R. Linda:
Well, today was a trip and a half. I found meself in a situation I had never experienced before: being stuck in a lift (elevator). Let me start from the beginning for you. I was with another reporter born in India who has been in this country for six to seven years. We were both covering a Romney rally, and afterwards, since we were staying in the same hotel, we got a cab together, and off we went.
It was around 4 a.m., and we were both pretty knackered and had yet to file our stories.
"I have to go to da room on the twelt floor; dere be a makeshift press room oop dere," I said to Raj.
"Oh, and me as well. I thenk it's a poolll for aw aa us, at leest that is what I was toad," he answered.
So we decided to go on up together. We stopped in the lobby for messages, got what there were, and headed to the lift. We had checked in earlier in the day and were taken to our respective rooms by bellhops, but this was all on our own. So we step into the lift, and the door slides closed. I go to press the button to go up and find there are no buttons. None, nowhere in sight. I looked at Raj in question, and he looked back at me, also in question. Both of us looked around, and then we started feeling the panels, but no recess buttons anywhere until a voice came from a speaker above us and said, "What floor, please?"
We almost jumped into each other's arms as the voice suddenly came on, and we hadn't expected such a thing. We looked at each other, and I cleared me throat and shrugged at him and said, "Twelt."
There was silence, and nothing happened. He looked at me and then up at the ceiling, where the speaker was.
"Maabee you need tou say it louder," he whispered at me.
"TWELT," I said with authority and volume.
Nothing.
He stepped into the centre of the lift, looked up, and shouted at the speaker, "TWELF!"
Again, nothing, then a voice came over and said, "Please speak slowly and announce your floor."
I sighed at him and stepped up. "FLAOUR TWELT."
We waited, the two of us standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the middle of the lift.
"Somethengs wrongg," he said.
At the same time, we shouted the number, and as before, nothing happened. We looked at each other and moved apart self-consciously. Then this came over the speaker: "Please speak slowly and announce your floor. If you need to leave the elevator, please say OPEN."
We exchanged glances and, at the same time, said, "OOPIN!"
"I'm sorry I didn't understand that. Please speak slowly and announce your command."
I raised me hand and said I would do it. I stepped to the centre of the lift, looked up, and loudly and slowly said, "Oopin."
"I'm sorry I didn't understand that. Please speak slowly and announce your command."
Raj gestured it was his turn, stepped up, and said, "Apin!"
"I'm sorry I didn't understand that. Please speak slowly and announce your command."
"Ugh!" I said in frustration to no one in particular and got this, "I'm sorry I didn't understand that. Please speak slowly and announce your command."
Well, we were pretty angry by that time. We were stuck in a metal cube, and we couldn't go up, we couldn't go down, and we couldn't get out! We were talking over each other, and the entire time, we debated that we'd probably die in the lift. Meanwhile, "the voice" was saying its spiel over and over and over.
Then it hit me. Amazingly, I looked up at the speaker and shouted, "Siri, be dat YOU?"
"Sari? Whut Sari?"
"No, not Sari, Siri," I said, frustrated with him!
I explained to Raj about Siri and Jeeves and how neither of them understood me. I was doomed to the Siri's of the world being the new source of command technology, and I, AND seemingly Raj, would be the two people in the world it would not work for! I was livid and defeated! Yes, defeated R. Linda; never before have I had so much trouble with technology. (See 31 January 2012 iPhone 4S - Jeeves, are you there? Siri? Anyone?)
The two of us sat in opposite corners quietly, listening to the voice asking for a command. We ignored it until Raj shouted at it, "You arr a weste of mi tim an enagee. Why dought you go an . . . " I stopped him there.
"Raj," I said as the voice continued to ask for a command, "no need for dat dere kinda ting. It obviously duz not speek English."
"Weel, you hav an Irish accent so when you speek, it sounds like a quesion." This said moodily like the situation was all me fault.
"Well, you have an Indian accent, so when you speak, it sounds like you are taking an order."
"WHUT?"
"Well, it, duz," I said, red in the face from hearing that old criticism we Irish always hear. We should not end our sentences sounding like a question where there is none, but everyone in the world who isn't Irish accuses us of this. As for Raj, I can hear it in his sentences as if he's really saying, "Can I tak your orrdeerr? How kin I helllp you?" So there it was, he and I ripping each other, and the voice suddenly stopped, which gave us pause. We looked at each other and then up at the speaker like it would do something. It didn't. Then, suddenly, we heard mechanical noises, and we both jumped up to see the doors open. There were a few people ready to come on. I held a hand to Raj to wait, and I said to the newcomers, "Americans?"
They looked at each other, puzzled at this, and someone said, "Yeah."
I gestured them aboard and stood back with Raj as one of them said, "NINE," and miraculously, the lift started up. As we reached the ninth floor, we both realised we would be stuck again because we still needed to go up to floor twelve.
"Would one of ye mind goin' to da twelt floor wit us and cooming back doon?" I nearly pleaded. They looked at me like I was crazy, and then I explained, and they laughed. One of the men said he would, so up we went and off we got, and as we were walking to the conference room Raj said, "Goud luck wit getin back to de first flour." Yes, indeed, we needed to find another American to get us back to the lobby because, as we separated, we were both covertly looking for the stairs!
Gabe
Copyright © 2012 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Well, today was a trip and a half. I found meself in a situation I had never experienced before: being stuck in a lift (elevator). Let me start from the beginning for you. I was with another reporter born in India who has been in this country for six to seven years. We were both covering a Romney rally, and afterwards, since we were staying in the same hotel, we got a cab together, and off we went.
It was around 4 a.m., and we were both pretty knackered and had yet to file our stories.
"I have to go to da room on the twelt floor; dere be a makeshift press room oop dere," I said to Raj.
"Oh, and me as well. I thenk it's a poolll for aw aa us, at leest that is what I was toad," he answered.
So we decided to go on up together. We stopped in the lobby for messages, got what there were, and headed to the lift. We had checked in earlier in the day and were taken to our respective rooms by bellhops, but this was all on our own. So we step into the lift, and the door slides closed. I go to press the button to go up and find there are no buttons. None, nowhere in sight. I looked at Raj in question, and he looked back at me, also in question. Both of us looked around, and then we started feeling the panels, but no recess buttons anywhere until a voice came from a speaker above us and said, "What floor, please?"
We almost jumped into each other's arms as the voice suddenly came on, and we hadn't expected such a thing. We looked at each other, and I cleared me throat and shrugged at him and said, "Twelt."
There was silence, and nothing happened. He looked at me and then up at the ceiling, where the speaker was.
"Maabee you need tou say it louder," he whispered at me.
"TWELT," I said with authority and volume.
Nothing.
He stepped into the centre of the lift, looked up, and shouted at the speaker, "TWELF!"
Again, nothing, then a voice came over and said, "Please speak slowly and announce your floor."
I sighed at him and stepped up. "FLAOUR TWELT."
We waited, the two of us standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the middle of the lift.
"Somethengs wrongg," he said.
At the same time, we shouted the number, and as before, nothing happened. We looked at each other and moved apart self-consciously. Then this came over the speaker: "Please speak slowly and announce your floor. If you need to leave the elevator, please say OPEN."
We exchanged glances and, at the same time, said, "OOPIN!"
"I'm sorry I didn't understand that. Please speak slowly and announce your command."
I raised me hand and said I would do it. I stepped to the centre of the lift, looked up, and loudly and slowly said, "Oopin."
"I'm sorry I didn't understand that. Please speak slowly and announce your command."
Raj gestured it was his turn, stepped up, and said, "Apin!"
"I'm sorry I didn't understand that. Please speak slowly and announce your command."
"Ugh!" I said in frustration to no one in particular and got this, "I'm sorry I didn't understand that. Please speak slowly and announce your command."
Well, we were pretty angry by that time. We were stuck in a metal cube, and we couldn't go up, we couldn't go down, and we couldn't get out! We were talking over each other, and the entire time, we debated that we'd probably die in the lift. Meanwhile, "the voice" was saying its spiel over and over and over.
Then it hit me. Amazingly, I looked up at the speaker and shouted, "Siri, be dat YOU?"
"Sari? Whut Sari?"
"No, not Sari, Siri," I said, frustrated with him!
I explained to Raj about Siri and Jeeves and how neither of them understood me. I was doomed to the Siri's of the world being the new source of command technology, and I, AND seemingly Raj, would be the two people in the world it would not work for! I was livid and defeated! Yes, defeated R. Linda; never before have I had so much trouble with technology. (See 31 January 2012 iPhone 4S - Jeeves, are you there? Siri? Anyone?)
The two of us sat in opposite corners quietly, listening to the voice asking for a command. We ignored it until Raj shouted at it, "You arr a weste of mi tim an enagee. Why dought you go an . . . " I stopped him there.
"Raj," I said as the voice continued to ask for a command, "no need for dat dere kinda ting. It obviously duz not speek English."
"Weel, you hav an Irish accent so when you speek, it sounds like a quesion." This said moodily like the situation was all me fault.
"Well, you have an Indian accent, so when you speak, it sounds like you are taking an order."
"WHUT?"
"Well, it, duz," I said, red in the face from hearing that old criticism we Irish always hear. We should not end our sentences sounding like a question where there is none, but everyone in the world who isn't Irish accuses us of this. As for Raj, I can hear it in his sentences as if he's really saying, "Can I tak your orrdeerr? How kin I helllp you?" So there it was, he and I ripping each other, and the voice suddenly stopped, which gave us pause. We looked at each other and then up at the speaker like it would do something. It didn't. Then, suddenly, we heard mechanical noises, and we both jumped up to see the doors open. There were a few people ready to come on. I held a hand to Raj to wait, and I said to the newcomers, "Americans?"
They looked at each other, puzzled at this, and someone said, "Yeah."
I gestured them aboard and stood back with Raj as one of them said, "NINE," and miraculously, the lift started up. As we reached the ninth floor, we both realised we would be stuck again because we still needed to go up to floor twelve.
"Would one of ye mind goin' to da twelt floor wit us and cooming back doon?" I nearly pleaded. They looked at me like I was crazy, and then I explained, and they laughed. One of the men said he would, so up we went and off we got, and as we were walking to the conference room Raj said, "Goud luck wit getin back to de first flour." Yes, indeed, we needed to find another American to get us back to the lobby because, as we separated, we were both covertly looking for the stairs!
Gabe
Copyright © 2012 All rights reserved
