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The Meet-Cute: elevator rides with Blue Suede Suit

It was a Tuesday evening and I was running late for a meeting in an unfamiliar building across campus. I was a bit frazzled from being behind so I decided to book-it up the stairs instead of locating the elevator. Big mistake. The room we were meeting in turned out to be on the 5th floor. “You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me.” I exclaimed between breaths as my heels clinked up the metallic steps. I got to my meeting and it turned out that they were running on typical MST.  “Great, all that exercise for nothing,” I thought while I looked for some tissues to pat down my sweat.

 

The meeting was forgettable. I was asked to assist in a committee directed at making new students feel more at home.

“So do you want me to bake them cookies after they get home from class?”

“Whatever helps,” the director winked, “unless you are an awful baker.”

“Har har har,” I replied.

 

I made my way to the elevators (I had made sure to ask where they were) and prepared myself for a luxurious ride down. The bell dinged. The elevator doors opened to a blonde, blue-eyed, tall drink of water, the looks of an Americana Tommy Hilfiger model, the kind you hear about in Carrie Underwood songs. He was wearing a blue suede suit. The usual elevator music was momentarily replaced by that song they play when the Sims fall in love. He looked at me, smiled and I was drawn into the box by a force invisible to mankind.

 

“Is that a blue suede suit?” I asked rather forthright.

Blue Suede wordlessly held out his arm in front of me.

“How did you know I would want to touch it?” I giggled.

“It’s a blue suede jacket; of course you want to touch it,” he replied in a deep, masculine voice.

I felt up his arm. Holy Crap, this guy was fwiiiine.

“It’s nice.”

“Thanks,” he responded. “What are you here for? You’re too pretty to be in Civil Engineering.”

“Rude!” I said playfully. “Are you saying that pretty people can’t be engineers?”

“No, I’m just saying that I would have noticed you if you were.”

He smiled. I tried not to swoon.

“So what are you here for?” he repeated.

“I had a meeting. You’re looking at the newest member of the welcoming committee.” I bowed. He golf-clapped.

“Cool… what does that mean?”

“I’m not sure but they said something about baking cookies for new students.”

“What?! No one made me cookies when I moved here. You should just drop off some Oreos.”

The elevator came to a stop. The doors opened on Level B2, and I remembered I hadn’t even pressed a button so it must be his stop. Blue Suede, eyes still on me, still talking about various processed cookies pressed the “door close” button and we stayed there talking until another person called for the elevator and the carriage began its ascent.

 

The course of our conversation weaved around majors, thoughts on German cinema, stories about wake boarding, siblings, sports, as we physically weaved around the additional passengers that joined us for a few floors. He told me about his love for the Utah Jazz and how he wrote a sad poem after they lost in the NBA Finals in 1998. I made him promise to read it to me after he asked his mom to mail it to him. His phone buzzed several times and he ignored it.

 

30 minutes and dozens of floors later I sensed a lull in the conversation and decided to follow a random student out of the elevator. Blue Suede stopped me when I was halfway out of the carriage. The motion-censored doors seized as I stood in place.

“So you meet a man in a beautiful blue suede suit and you aren’t interested enough to get his number? Are you going to make me hang around in elevators until I see you again?” he asked coyly.

I got back in; I was on the wrong floor anyway.

“Fine, but only because I’m curious about your other suits,” I said, faking exasperation as I entered my number into his phone.

 

We rode to the 1st floor and I got off.

“My ride is freaking out right now,” he laughed as he checked his phone. “You should see his suede suit some time,” he leaned in seductively, “it’s orange.”

“Ooh la la,” I said as I walked away, “Nice to meet you Blue Suede.” I shot him an over-the-shoulder smile and made my way out of the building to my car.

 

I let myself freak out when I got to my car, a white VW Bug. I called my sister, of course, to tell her the adorable story; this was before talking on the phone and driving was illegal, but long after it was a bad idea. I pulled up to the stoplight outside of the building I just met in. The light was a left-hand turn on green and pedestrians were meandering across the street. Usually I would be frustrated because I am not a patient driver but because I was so engulfed in my story I wasn’t paying attention. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed an orange blob moving along with the rest of the students. I thought back to Blue Suede and his orange-suited friend, and I giggled. Then, a blue blob bounced into my peripherals, following the orange one. He was skipping across the street talking to his friend animatedly. I focused my eyes in the darkness and saw it was Blue Suede and his orange friend. At the same time I was in squinting, leaning over the steering wheel, grandma stance, Orange Suede halted abruptly and pointed at me in my Bug in the middle of the road. Blue Suede ran into him unable to react in time, and after a moment of disorientation, adjusted his gaze on to me as well. I waved and smiled. Orange Suede’s eyes got wide. He started laughing and smacked Blue Suede in the chest. Blue Suede started laughing as well, waved and then the two of them ran off like giddy school boys.

“Kt? KT!” my phone yelled at me. I had totally forgotten my sister was still on the line. I apologized and told her I would call her right back. As I pressed, “end call” a message popped up from an unknown number reading “Caught.” And then, “Hope to see you soon.”

“Right back at ya,” I texted back as I made my way to the nearest grocery store. I was suddenly craving some Oreos. 

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