The other side of the tracks

I got into the hotel elevator on the 11th floor, and an older gentleman was already in it. I pressed the button for the lobby, and noticed that there were two other buttons illuminated, 6 and 8. I glanced around again; one gentleman, me, 3 buttons. The car stopped at 8, and the doors opened. The gentlemen cricked his head forward a bit, looking one way down the hall, then the other, as if he wanted to convince me that someone else had actually managed to telekenetically push the 8 button way up on the 12th floor.

So I pushed him out.

That'll teach him to make a haphazard slap at the button panel next time.

I signed my lease for my apartment this afternoon, after signing in at Wright-Patterson AFB. I don't have to go back there until Tuesday, when orientation starts, which will give me some time to get my place set up, as my furniture n stuff will be delivered tomorrow, mid-morning.

When My Pregnant Wife and I came out in March to find a place to live, we'd decided on this loft complex rather than a typical apartment complex across the street from the base; I lived in that kind of place, a typical suburban strip-malled hell with a name like "Park Manor", as a Second Lieutenant already; we decided it would be better if, I dunno, acted like a grown-up or something, and tried something new and different. I've never lived in a real downtown before, and I'm right there: a block away from the Greyhound station; two blocks from the rails carrying cargo trains every hour or so. I'll walk to shops and restaurants and parks and the river and the theater and get away from base life at the end of the school day, and experience something other than bland crackerbox laundromatted Hardee's' backyard.

I've already been asked twice for spare change!