I have a problem with consistency. This is why I haven’t posted in more than a year. It’s crazy to think about how fast time has passed and how much stuff I managed to shove into that year. I have lived in Puerto Rico, Washington, Oklahoma (actually, I think I was kind of homeless during this period), Idaho and Oregon. I have had five different jobs. And I fell into the craziest relationship I have been in thus far in my life.
Today is his 23rd birthday and I suppose to honor the occasion it would be appropriate to dedicate this (whatever it may be) to him. I met El Papazón (as he liked to be called) one Saturday night in Old San Juan. Upset because all the bars were closing at midnight due to an election the next day, I was knocking them back fast and looking for someone to entertain me for the rest of the night.
I turned to the guy sitting next to me, gazing at him flirtatiously. He wasn’t attractive but I only wanted someone to hang out with for the night. The next bus wasn’t leaving until 6:00am, so I had a lot of time to kill. We started talking. When the bars closed we went to the casino, where the drinks were complimentary and strong. I gambled for the first time and won.
By the end of the night, we had come to a friends-with-benefits arrangement. Before I knew it, we were in a full-blown relationship. We drank and smoked and drank and smoked and planned our future together. Every night was a party.
But we were never a good match. We constantly struggled to change each other. We had very little in common. But how much do two people have to have in common to sustain a relationship? I asked myself that question every day for the couple of months we were together.
I still don’t know the answer. I can’t say specifically why our relationship failed. I’m glad it’s over, but I miss it. Happy Birthday, Papazón.

I live in a dormitory that is 21 stories high. One elevator stops at all the even floors (where the women’s rooms are) and another stops at all the odd floors (where the men’s rooms are). Either sex is permitted to use either elevator. Obviously, you may have to go up or down a flight of stairs if you use the elevator that doesn’t stop at your floor.
I live on the eighth floor (it is actually called the sixth floor, but there are two floors before the numbering starts), so I use the elevator almost every day. I have come to notice that people have extremely annoying elevator habits.
The most obvious is the way they push the buttons. With elevators, chances are you will be running into a lot of people you don’t really know and that it is going to feel awkward. Well, some people express this awkwardness in a nervous energy that causes them to repeatedly push the elevator buttons. When I see somebody push the same button ten times, I can’t help but wonder if they really think that the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth and tenth times are going to make the elevator operate more efficiently.
Some of you may be going, “What about the second and third times?” Well, I can be a bit obsessive myself (I know, shocking, isn’t it?) and sometimes wonder if I actually pushed the button the first time, so I push it a second time. Then I wonder if the elevator is having a bad day and possibly missed the message, so I give it a third firm push right in the middle of the button, attempting to cover as much surface area with my thumb pad as possible. After the third time, I am sufficiently confident that I have communicated my request to the elevator.
And let’s not forget that we are talking about a Puerto Rican elevator in a run-down university building. Sometimes, it is just plain moody for no apparent reason. It has obstinately snubbed the fourth floor altogether and refuses to respond to the down button request on my floor, which means you have to push the up button and either ride up and then back down or get somebody on the elevator to push the number six button when the door closes so that it will stop for you on its way back down. Often, it is simpler to take the stairs.
Considering these factors, pushing the elevator button three times is not excessive. More than that and you may want to consider seeing a doctor to get you on some meds – or simply smoking a joint before you tackle the elevator ride.
Another annoying elevator behavior is when people stand directly in front of the door, right in the center, even when they aren’t getting off until the eighteenth or nineteenth floor and even when there is nobody else on the elevator. Of course given that there are only two elevators serving 350 to 400 residents plus the various workers, the elevators can get rather crowded, so one may be forced to stand right in front of the door.
It would be absurd to expect all the maintenance workers and janitors to haul all the cleaning supplies up the stairs or haul the enormous amounts of garbage down the stairs. The only other alternative is for them to also use the elevators. As a consequence, the elevators reek early in the day (because of the garbage – not the workers). Also, the response time is slower because it can take a while to drag all of that garbage out.
Inconsiderate people also slow the elevator’s response time. If you are not actually ready to get on the elevator when you push the button, then don’t push the god-damn button and then stand there holding the door open for five minutes while you finish your conversation. And if your friend is not ready to go down or up yet, then don’t hold the door open for them either. There are 350 to 400 other people waiting to use that elevator and don’t appreciate you wasting their time.
Not being the most patient person in the world, I frequently use the stairs. Quite a bit of thought has gone into this. The elevator uses electricity, so by using the stairs I am using less energy. Stair-climbing is good for the muscles, so by using the stairs I am developing a tighter ass. Stair-climbing burns calories, so by using the stairs I am contributing to my daily work-out effort. Up and down eight flights of steep stairs a few times a day can be quite the work-out. And finally, stair-climbing eliminates exposure to all of those annoying elevator habits, so I am reducing my stress level and finding my dorm mates much more amicable.