No, I Don't Watch 'Star Trek'

I was on the ninth floor of a building in SoHo tonight, walking toward the elevator. Of all the things my face could possibly have been communicating, it wasn't "look at me." And it certainly wasn't "talk to me." But the elfin lady with the thick maroon backpack who was also waiting for the elevator ignored all communications.

"Are you with [inaudible]?" I looked up, first trying to register the fact that she had asked me a question. Then I wondered that, had I been with [inaudible], which I did gather was some kind of group, would she not have seen me?

"No." That would be the end of it, right?

"I'm Judy."  I paused in a sort of disbelief, because at no time had I made eye contact with her; at no time had I encouraged a meaningful exchange.

"Hey," I said as I whipped out my phone, hoping that someone had sent me something that I needed to urgently reply to. No one did, so I toggled through Sony Ericsson's menu items, hoping my retort would be the last of it, but understanding that once names are given, there is an expectation of a commitment of some sort. Any sort.

"It's getting late."

"Yes. Dinner time."

The elevator doors opened, thank god, and I let her go before me, trying to appear as uninterested in further communication as possible. And it worked. Until the doors closed.

"Do you watch Star Trek?" Oh my god. I dropped my hands to my sides, wanting to melt on the floor in a sludge slick thick enough to melt all four foot eleven of her -- glasses and all. Finally looking at her, I responded as swiftly as I could, naively hoping that perhaps this would be the last of it. Hoping that my unwillingness to watch Star Trek would poison me to her and she would shoot her nose in the air in a huff of Vulcan self-importance. Or is that Klingon? Anyway.

"No, I don't watch Star Trek."

"Oh, well, they have this thing on it -- it looks like this," she said, pausing so I'd look at what "this" was. It was her phone. "It looks like this, and you can tell it what you want to eat for dinner. And suddenly, everything you ordered would appear."

"That would be convenient right about now, seeing as though getting home sometimes takes an hour and a half." There. That would give her enough to chew on until we made it to the lobby. To freedom.

But then danger struck and we slowed at the fourth floor to pick up another, unwitting passenger. I moved over to my right, making myself as one with the wall as I could so that he would have no choice but to occupy the space between me and short stuff. It worked, the poor sap.

"Have you eaten dinner yet?" His pause was a good length, lasting I'd say about half a floor, and by the time his brain wrapped its neurons around what was going on, we had reached the second floor. Believe me, I was watching the numbers decrease.

"No I haven't," he finally said, at least looking at her when he replied.

"We were just talking about this thing on Star Trek..."

FIRST FLOOR!!!!!