Hit the Floor!

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 & Michael Jordan