Once on Broadway, I shared a private elevator with horror and suspense-fiction novelist Stephen King. It was the kind of elevator that required a special key, made in the shape of a credit card, to be swiped past a sensor where you would then select your floor. There were a few of us in the elevator but Stephen and I were closest to the buttons… I don’t know why but it was really fun to get to be the guy who swipes the card – some sort of elevator man role playing / I’ve got the power to the buttons guy-thing, you know... it's fun to be the one to make the machine work.
I remember, as we funnelled into the elevator, I began digging into my pocket for the card. When suddenly, I caught Stephen out of the corner of my eye, catching me out of the corner of his eye doing the very same thing… it was on! Passionately we searched the depths of our pockets and with a competitive fervour he produced his card first accompanied by a peculiar victory grin, I wouldn’t let this discourage me – I was, after all, closer to the sensor.
Now some people might not know this but Stephen King is actually a pretty large man and I realized that my advantage came with the fact that you had to swipe low for the sensor. As he moved forward for the victory swipe, something came over me… perhaps it was his size that reminded me of my many years of basketball or perhaps it was that know-it-all-best-selling victory grin – and I swore I could have heard him give me a little celebration grunt – but at the very moment he moved in for the swipe and push… I decided to box him out and keep digging for my card. I’m serious and this was not some junior high – hope I get the rebound scenario… I was givin him the full Dennis Rodman and you’d think a man at 60+ might back down, but the elevator victory swipe was bigger than both of us.
I chimed in with a grunt of my own, taunting him… a husky hum of “bring it on”. He returned with his own grunt, a kind of “you want some of this!”. And just as my right hand found the card deep in my lower cargo pocket and I knew victory would be mine, King went full extension over my left shoulder to make the swipe. I’ll be honest, it was an ugly win, King isn’t the most graceful swan in the pond… but champions aren’t afraid to get dirty.
I had to give it to him; he fought hard and once the battle had subsided there seemed to be a mixture of surprise and good humour in the elevator amongst the other passengers. His floor came first and as the doors flung open he turned and wished me well: “Take care!” he said, I happily responded “I’ll get cha next time!” A few of his entourage that followed behind giggled as they heard my pointed words. Thinking back, I wish had said something a little more profound, quoted one of his great lines like…. “Get busy livin or get busy dyin” …but I didn’t. Oh well, he’s probably heard that shit a million times anyway.
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