Rob Helfer
buckaroo commander
Outpost 153
Springfield Mo
Home of the Blue Vatican
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Subject: Fwd: "SHIRLEEN KIMERER" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>: Fwd: FW: TRUE
STORY
Date: Sun, 2 May 1999 22:52:38 EDT
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To: [EMAIL PROTECTED], [EMAIL PROTECTED], [EMAIL PROTECTED]
Subject: "SHIRLEEN KIMERER" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>: Fwd: FW: TRUE STORY
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From: HUGH E TOWNSEND <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
Date: Sun, 02 May 1999 17:02:17 EDT
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Subject: FWD: TRUE STORY
A TRUE STORY IN ATLANTIC CITY NJ........(WAS IN THE NEWSPAPER)
On a recent weekend in Atlantic City, a woman won a bucketful of
quarters at a slot machine. She took a break from the slots for dinner
with her husband in the hotel dining room. But first she wanted to stash
the quarters in her room. "I'll be right back and we'll go to
eat," she told her husband and she carried the coin-laden bucket to the
elevator.
As she was about to walk into the elevator she noticed two men already
aboard. Both were black. One of them was big ... very big ... an
intimidating figure. The woman froze. Her first thought was: These two
are going to rob me. Her next thought was: Don't be a bigot, they look
like perfectly nice gentlemen. But racial stereotypes are powerful, and
fear immobilized her. She stood and stared at the two men. She felt
anxious, flustered, ashamed. She hoped they didn't read her mind, but
knew they surely did; her hesitation about joining them on the elevator
was all too obvious.
Her face was flushed. She couldn't just stand there, so with a mighty
effort of will she picked up one foot and stepped forward and followed
with the other foot and was on the elevator. Avoiding eye contact, she
turned around stiffly and faced the elevator doors as they closed.
A second passed, and then another second, and then another. Her fear
increased! The elevator didn't move. Panic consumed her. My God,
she thought, I'm trapped and about to be robbed!
Her heart plummeted. Perspiration poured from every pore. Then....one
of the men said, "Hit the floor," Instinct told her: Do what they tell
you. The bucket of quarters flew upwards as she threw out her arms and
collapsed on the elevator carpet. A shower of coins
rained down on her. Take my money and spare me, she prayed. More seconds
passed. She heard one of the men say politely, "Ma'am, if you'll just
tell us what floor you're going to, we'll push the button," The one who
said it had a little trouble getting the words out. He was trying
mightily to hold in a belly laugh. She lifted her head and looked up at
the two men.
They reached down to help her up. Confused, she struggled to her
feet. "When I told my man here to hit the floor," said the average
sized one, "I meant that he should hit the elevator button for our
floor. I didn't mean for you to hit the floor, ma'am." He spoke
genially. He bit his lip. It was obvious he was having a hard time not
laughing. She thought:
My God, what a spectacle I've made of myself. She was too humiliated to
speak. She wanted to blurt out an apology, but words failed her. How do
you apologize to two perfectly respectable gentlemen for behaving as
though they were going to rob you? She didn't know what to say.
The 3 of them gathered up the strewn quarters and refilled her bucket.
When the elevator arrived at her floor they insisted on walking her to
her room. She seemed a little unsteady on her feet, and they were
afraid she might not make it down the corridor. At her door they bid her
a good evening. As she slipped into her room she could hear them roaring
with laughter while they walked back to the elevator.
The woman brushed herself off. She pulled herself together and went
downstairs for dinner with her husband.
The next morning flowers were delivered to her room-a dozen roses.
Attached to EACH rose was a crisp one hundred dollar bill. The card
said:
"Thanks for the best laugh we've had in years."
It was signed,
Eddie Murphy and Michael Jordan.
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