For obvious reasons, D & T have not been particularly bloggy this weekend. But! I have a typical cutegaychick
story to tell. Wanna hear it?
Alright! Friday evening, I went to the hospital to visit baby Havoc (he has a real name now). T's brother S got there a bit later than I did, and we left around the same time - that universal "the patient is 5 minutes from utter incoherence" time, when everyone leaves the hospital. Ordinary enough, right?
We walk down the hall, and we pass a set of elevators on the left. We'd come up (separately) in a set of elevators in roughly that location, so, while we're sure those aren't the same elevators we used to get to our current location, we push the button and wait. I am a bit hesitant to get on the elevator that arrives, but S is all "oh, no, scary death freight elevators are totally fine", so we get in. [I think it's useful to note here that I have a pretty good sense of direction and generally fine instincts about things that are going to turn out to be stupid, and I have a Very Bad Feeling about this elevator.]
We go down to the floor with the star next to it - cause hi, that's always the floor you go to, right? Star = exit! It's an established design metaphor. Except, no. Star floor is the floor where the emergency staff load friendly homeless women and stretchers containing soiled linen into a second scary freight elevator with a guy in it eating a meatbull sub. OBVIOUSLY. And we, foolishly, just GET OUT. Into, like, a closet. S is getting progressively more anxious-looking as we stand there. An hour (that might be slightly exaggerated) or so later, the guy with the sub comes back.
He is the same guy who helped me find the maternity ward earlier. He is the best guy ever! So I get in the elevator (S remains dubious) and meatball sub dude asks if it was a boy or a girl and says congratulations and we're all please please please point us to the exit
. Which he does. By walking with us through some sketchy doors and down some sketchy hallway until TADA. The main lobby.
Of course, having learned the valuable lesson that one must never ever do anything but precisely retrace one's steps upon leaving MCV, S and I walk out a door we did not come in, and end up in some random parking lot that appears to have pleated the fabric of space/time. It's creepy, we're wandering around lost in the snow... but this time the door turns out to somehow be less than a block away from the cars we parked 2-3 blocks from the entrance, which was just around the corner from the weird space/time door.
MCV. It's an effing labyrinth.