Home of the Dutch Gecko

Hmm, I’m tired. It’s only quarter to nine, but it’s been a long day. I have a little mini-presentation to do on Wednesday and I just can’t be bothered (as usual). I did get some stuff done on Sunday - in line with fixing my memory, I ran the wonderful memtest for a few hours. In accordance with Murphy’s law, it showed absolutely no errors. In the meantime, I did fun and productive stuff, like putting a speaker stand together, tidying some crap out of the way, and actually reading a bit of a book. Clever me!

Today I found myself in quite an odd situation, even if it was only for a split second. I was heading off home, and was walking through the new biology building, since my bike is parked quite close to its main entrance. This entrance takes the form of a revolving door. It’s of the hand-pushing variety, which is all fair and well, since it’s quite small, and the direction of travel is made more than obvious via push pads and large handle/bannister things. Anyways, as I walked through the open-plan main hall, I noticed that a conference was being held, as is often the case. The receptionist had put up her wonderful “Please use the revolving door. This sign exists in case you’re stupid enough to attempt to open the fire door next to it, clearly labelled For Emergency Use Only.” OK, so the second sentence isn’t actually on the sign.

The fact that this sign exists shows how difficult it is for conference delegates to handle the extreme stress caused by being present on a university campus, even if the biology department is tucked away in a corner. It came as no surprise to me then that, as I left the revolving door, meeting the cold breeze of the outside world, a man in a grey suit attempted to walk into the side of the revolving door that I had just come out of. Newton’s laws will stand in no businessman’s way when he is in a centre of tertiary education.

I, of course, was still attempting to exit the now fast-moving round case of squishy doom, but was faced by a man without fear. I had two choices: attempt to escape around the man, or make a second journey through the door and look like more of an ass than the fearless figure in front of me already was. I continued part way around the outside arc of the door, and escaped at what would normally be named the “entrance” to the machine. Leaping quickly, I avoided being crushed by the second sector, approaching rapidly from behind. I felt the rush of compressed air leaving the narrowest of gaps blowing into my neck. Slyly catching my breath and moving swiftly off, I hear the poor creature mutter “Thanks.” Presumably he thought I’d held the door open for him.

This wonderful distraction was created late at night on Monday 29th January, 2007. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.