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The Lift

5/6/2013

20 Comments

 
I can't remember whether I've ever mentioned my old college days friend Alessandro before on these pages. He had been studying at UCL while I was just across the road and round the corner at RADA. His family lived then as they probably do now in the city of Palermo, Sicily. I'm not one hundred percent certain exactly how or where we first met. At the pub I think is the most likely location, although it may equally well have been at one of those student parties. It doesn't really matter how it came about; we got on like a house on fire and for the next few terms we were pretty much inseparable. There were of course other friends within our group too, it wasn't an exclusive friendship, but Alessandro and I generally tended to be at the centre of things. This was probably because we shared the same interests: girls, alcohol, girls, theatre, girls, rock music, girls, movies, girls, literature and oh yes, did I mention this - we spent a lot of time thinking about girls!
 
But as inevitably happens, time moves on: I completed my course at RADA and began looking for work as an actor. We kept in contact with each other for a while but it was never quite the same. Eventually we lost touch altogether. A while later, I heard from a friend that Alessandro had returned home to Sicily. Of course, being Sicilian in the seventies, just a few years on from 'The Godfather' movie, had provided his pals with rich pastures for some good natured ribbing. And which Alessandro, fair play to him, always took in his stride. He could give as good as he got in this area and often referred to me as the 'Welsh pit pony'. I must say, I did occasionally wonder how he always had money in his pocket. Like most students by the end of each term I was pretty much skint, subsisting on white sliced bread and peanut butter. However, Alessandro never seemed to 'run dry' as it were. He would come round to see me and when I said I couldn't go out because I had no money, he'd exclaim, "No problem, pit pony, I will buy you a drink!" He rarely talked about his background and I only recall him confiding in me just the once when we were both a little worse for wear about his family. He claimed to be the son of a Sicilian prince, a fact I swallowed (drunk at the time as I was) with a very large pinch
of salt.
 
From time to time over the years I'd thought about him and wondered what he was up to, then last year, due to the marvel of the internet and social media, he sent me a tweet from his Twitter account to mine: 'Bon Giorno, pit pony! I enjoyed Niedermayer & Hart. Ciao!' it said. I knew who it was at once without bothering to analyse his Twitter name. Anyway, to cut a long story short we were back in touch again. We became friends on Facebook and have started to
tweet at each other regularly. Then about a month ago I received a rather opulent looking envelope through the post that bore a lot of unneccessary gold, swirly lettering and with a large ornate crest of some kind on the back. It was an invitation to a cocktail party at a suite at the Ritz hotel in London. The invitation was from Don Alessandro Giuseppe di Corbera. 'Blimey!' I thought, 'It was all the truth!'
 
So  last week I went to visit my old chum. My wife Judith wasn't able to join me unfortunately because she had a very heavy head cold. I took a copy of my new book Roadrage as a gift for Alessandro. The man at reception directed me to the lift and told me which floor to get off  at and how to reach Senor di Corbera's suite from there. I must admit to being very excited at this point. I entered the lift clutching my book under my arm. There was already a passenger in the
lift, a woman but I was so eager to see my friend that I paid her no attention. The doors closed and we started to ascend rapidly only to come to an unusually abrupt and quite shocking stop with a sudden jolt. It wasn't the way I'd imagined the lift at one of London's finest hotels might operate.
 
We seemed to be dangling in mid air for a moment, then the lights went out, but fortunately after a few seconds we were rescued from complete darkness. It was only then, as the light returned, that I noticed my companion was the famous chat show host Oprah Winfrey.
 
"This ever happen to you before?" she asked.
 
"Sorry?" I replied, feeling a bit flummoxed by her remark and rather disorientated by her presence.
 
"Ever been trapped in an elevator before?" she elucidated.
 
"No never," I replied.
 
"That's good to know," she smiled, "If I knew I was stuck in an elevator with some kind of Jonah, I'd consider panicking."
 
Just then the telephone rang. Still flummoxed, I looked all round trying to locate the thing. Miss Winfrey pointed out the small steel door in the lift wall right next to my shoulder marked 'Telephone'. "Ah, yes, I see," I said sheepishly.
 
I listened as the nice man from reception assured me they would be getting their maintenance team onto the problem right away. However it might possibly take half an hour.
 
When I explained what I'd just been told, Miss Winfrey casually slid down the smooth lift wall and sat on the floor,"May as well get comfortable," she said.
 
I parked myself on the floor alongside her.
 
"What's that you're holding?" she asked.
 
"It's a book ... Roadrage ... for a friend," I said.
 
"Any good?" she asked.
 
"I hope so!" I said.
 
"Why, you write the thing or something?" she asked.
 
I nodded.
 
"Say, you didn't sabotage the elevator, like Cathy Bates in that Stephen King book?"
 
I was horrified by the suggestion and shook my head vigorously, "Er, no. 'Course not."
 
"Mind if I take a look?" she chuckled.
 
"Er, no, not at all, " I said, immediately handing over the copy.
 
The man from reception rang about twenty minutes later, and Oprah Winfrey barely looked up when I relayed the bad news and conveyed his profuse apologies that the problem might possibly take a couple of hours to resolve. From then on he tended to ring every half an hour or so to give us little updates on any  progress that had been made in securing our release.
 
At first Miss Winfrey looked only a little annoyed by his interruptions to her reading, but as she neared the book's denouement she waved the back of her hand irritably at the phone when it rang and said, "Tell that guy to stop annoying people!"
 
Shortly after this, and roughly three hours after we'd first been trapped together, Miss Winfrey closed the book and smiled, "Congratulations," she said, before adding, "Say, do you know that back home I run a book club?"
 
I nodded and answered with some diffidence that I did.
 
"Well when I get back home this book is going to be my b...."
 
I wondered why her words faded at that moment and her voice was suddenly replaced by my wife's, "Oh, Mart, that cup of tea I left on your desk has gone cold!"
 
"Huh?" I looked around confusedly.
 
"What on earth have you been doing? Staring out the window, letting cups of tea go cold! I thought you were writing a letter to the bank?
 
"Oh yes, the letter to the bank ..."
 
"You were far away ... what were you thinking about anyhow?"
 
"Oh, oh, nothing," I fibbed.
 
Tapocketa ... Tapocketa ... Tapocketa ....

20 Comments
Dawn Smith
5/6/2013 01:15:04 am

LOL!! Too funny! I am too gullible, I was so excited with you for quite a while there until I started envisioning Oprah in a cocktail gown sitting on the floor of an elevator. Her reading your book and loving it was the only thing that keep me believing it until the end, of course. ;)

Reply
Martin Johnson link
5/6/2013 06:08:55 am

Thanks for sharing your wonderful reaction!

Reply
Susy McGregor link
5/6/2013 05:54:21 am

Lol! Had me going. Shall we call you Walter Mitty?

Reply
Martin Johnson link
5/6/2013 06:07:15 am

Tapocketa!

Reply
Maxine link
5/6/2013 07:58:05 am

Hilarious, enjoyed reading that as much as Roadrage :)

Reply
Martin Johnson link
5/6/2013 05:10:19 pm

Phew! You''ve finished it? Looking forward to hearing your thoughts. M

Reply
Rick Friedman
5/6/2013 08:25:33 am

A truly wonderful satire on a "writer's dream"..very well done!!

Reply
Martin Johnson link
5/6/2013 05:14:13 pm

Thanks Rick. What I love about writing is that it's like having an open licence to be a compulsive liar! All best, Martin

Reply
liz whittaker link
5/6/2013 05:35:37 pm

You tell a good story - up to Oprah's opening line I believed every word - then the lack of diva behaviour gave you away! Good fun though. If only real life could be conjured so readily from the imagination - quantum physicists keep telling us we make our own world so watch out - you never know......

Reply
Sonya Kemp link
5/6/2013 05:47:54 pm

I really enjoyed reading this. I actually believed it! :-) I tend to daydream as well, hoping for bigger and better things.

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Terry Tyler
6/6/2013 12:14:10 am

D'you know, I actually believed it all, up until the Oprah Winfrey book club bit....!!! Very good indeed! :)

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Martin Johnson link
6/6/2013 04:07:54 am

Tee hee hee!

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Jennifer Petkus link
6/6/2013 02:25:30 am

You really had me going, because I've had this dream too, or a variant of it. I also realize it's been a long time since I tweeted you. Must dash for now, I have to buy some puppy biscuits.

Reply
Martin Johnson link
6/6/2013 04:05:07 am

We want a puppy! Really miss our old dog Bobby!

Reply
Mrs Browne
16/7/2013 05:18:45 am

OOOH you FIBBER. xx

Reply
Martin Johnson link
16/7/2013 06:33:22 am

Not so much a fib Mrs B, more a complete and utter tissue of lies!
But tell me, honestly, what gave me away? M x

Reply
Martin Johnson link
16/7/2013 06:33:53 am

Not so much a fib Mrs B, more a complete and utter tissue of lies!
But tell me, honestly, what gave me away? M x

Reply
Kath
11/1/2014 04:44:49 pm

Cheers Martin, that put a smile on my face this cold and frosty Sunday morning.

Reply
Martin Johnson link
11/1/2014 06:37:35 pm

Hi Kath, thanks for leaving a comment and very glad it made you smile. It's a bit frosty here too this morning - but a nice change I think after all the warm (and very!!!!) wet weather recently. We were in Hastings last night at dusk and the sea was calm and gentle. The sky was pink with tiny puffy clouds here and there that looked almost too good to be real. Thanks again for reading - have a lovely Sunday. Martin

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