Scene 1, shortly after check in at the Buena Vista Best Western in Orlando…*
Thing 2: I wanna push the button!
Me: Ok, we’re on the 14th floor.
Thing 1: Hey, what’s up with the elevator buttons? There’s no thirteen.
Spouse: Ohh-hhh (how does one spell that anyway?) Sometimes hotels do that. They’ll set aside a floor for special guests who don’t want to be disturbed. Or maybe they’ll use it for storage, depends on their needs.
Me (and a few others in the elevator): snigger
Thing 2: So how would you get to that floor? Would you take the stairs? Is there a special entrance? I want to know how it works!
Spouse: Well, it depends on the hotel. If they use it for special guests, then we won’t be able to access it. There’s usually a special elevator for just that floor. But if they just use it for storage or office space, then we could probably get there by taking the stairs from our floor or the 12th floor.
Thing 1: Ok. That makes sense. Can we check it out later?
Me: (sotto voce) You are so mean. How long are you going to keep this up?
Spouse: As long as I can….
Scene 2, the next evening in the parking lot
Thing 1: How many floors are there in the hotel?
Me: Ummm…not exactly sure. They have the numbered floors, then an “M” level so it’s either 17 or 18. Why do you ask?
Thing 1: Well, I think we’re short a floor. I’m counting the floors and it just doesn’t seem right.
Me: Hmmm. We’ll just have to check the elevator buttons when we get in so we know how many floors to count.
In the elevator
Thing 2: I still don’t get why there’s no 13th floor Why would the hotel do that?
Thing 1: Yeah. Why have a floor that you can’t get to easily? Makes no sense.
Thing 2: When I get off of this elevator, I’m taking the stairs to this 13th floor to see it for myself.
Thing 1: Me too.
Spouse: Ok, but there might be security there. Be careful.
Me (and the nice lady on the elevator with us): barely suppressed laughter.
about twenty seconds later…
Thing 2: WHAT THE!?!?!?
Thing 1: It goes to 12! Where is 13?
Thing 2: Ok, Dad, what’s the deal? I want to know where the 13th floor is!
At this point he finally put them out of their misery and told them why there is no 13th floor.
Thing 2: You’re kidding me! That is SO LAME! That’s all?
Spouse: Yep. That’s why.
Thing 2: And you were going to keep this from me for how long? I hate it when you guys do that!
Thing 1: Gaack! You do this all the time! Stop messing with us!
And that’s why we’ll be eating dog food in our old age…
*As I’m typing this story, I realize that this is really embarrassing on a few different levels. First of all, they don’t have the opportunity to go into a lot of tall buildings. We live in Austin, and the last time we were in Manhattan was two years ago and I don’t think they would have noticed it. Second, even though these are both GT kids, they are really gullible. And this isn’t helped by the third thing, which is that their father is the MASTER of pulling people’s legs. He had a friend of ours convinced that there is a bridge from San Francisco to Hawaii made out of ships that were sunk in WWII called the WWII Memorial Bridge. And yes, he’s in Marketing, why do you ask?