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Weekday Matinee

Sometimes life becomes a movie. Or at least seems like one.

It’s a normal day at work, busy in a good way. A co-worker returns from her lunch and says there’s smoke coming out of one of the outdoor ash trays by the back door. She wonders if the landlord should be called or maybe even the fire company. I tell her I’ll take a look and let her know what I think.

I walk down the back creepy staircase that I never feel comfortable going down simply because it makes me think of a scary movie called The People Under the Stairs. I’m not kidding, those stairs are horror movie creepy. Still, it’s the quickest route to where the smoke is happening. I smell the smoke before I see it. I open the heavy metal door that leads to the outside.

There is smoke. Serious smoke. Smoke like the biggest genie ever is going to pop out of the ashtray and start singing in Robin Williams’s voice. It’s an office park version of Aladdin, I’m thinking, and that’s just all kinds of wrong.

I ascend the back stairs faster than I descended them. This is a job for the fire department.

In the hallway, rushing back toward the office because I didn’t think to bring my cell phone, I see an old lady walking toward me and she’s leaning against the wall, taking each step very slowly.

“Oh, I just wish I had a wheelchair,” I hear her say under her breath.

So there I am in the hallway doing a move like Tom Hanks did in Splash when he was standing between elevator doors, waiting for one to open. One foot to another, back and forth, back and forth. Fire or Old Lady? Fire or Old Lady?

I’m wondering, what kind of Superman version of Sophie’s Choice is this? Also, how many movie references can I have in my head at once?

“Do you need a wheelchair?” I ask the lady. “I’ll get you one. I can get one from right down the hall.”

“No, I’ll be okay. I just have to take things slow,” she says.

I’m still hesitating like Tom Hanks. Fire or Old Lady?

The old lady takes another step and slips a little. Elevator door open. Sophie, there’s your choice.

“Oh no, no, no. This isn’t good. I’ll get the chair!” I tell her and run back toward where the fire is downstairs. Okay, I tell myself, this isn’t going to turn into Backdraft. Just need to get the chair, get the lady down the hall, then call the fire company.

Thankfully, as I’m wheeling the woman toward the doctor’s office where she needs to go, I see two women run out of the doorway. One is saying something about the smoke and the other is carrying a fire extinguisher. Fire problem solved.

The woman gets what she needs at the doctor’s and I wheel her to her car where someone is waiting to drive her home. Old Lady safe and sound.

When I return to my desk it takes me about 10 minutes of staring at nothing before I’m fully regrouped and remember what I’d been doing. Then I pick up where I’d left off.

So, if life is going to be like a movie, what movie will I get now? Can I decide on this? I’m glad I was in the right place at the right time to help the old lady. That was good. The fire? Not so good.

I’m thinking I want life to be like a movie involving hot sands, a cold drink, and warm waters. I’m not thinking Cast Away. Let’s be clear on that. I don’t want my only company to be a volley ball named Wilson. Let’s have Colin Firth instead of Wilson, please. And maybe let’s have a lake instead of the ocean. A nice, clear, cool lake. Not Crystal Lake from Friday the 13th. A different lake. Just me, Colin, and the sun-dappled water. Does such a movie exist? No? Okay, I’ll just have to make that one myself.

Juliana Gribbins is a writer who believes that absurdity is the spice of life. Write to her at jeepgribbs@hotmail.com.