I no longer hate elevators. As a kid growing up in New York it was torturous having to ride 30, 40 or more floors to the sound of Muzak (pumped in, easy listening, brainless, no attention required noise) played on elevators. We used to laugh at the sterile non-offensive soft sounds that would accompany every ride. I can remember joking, “You’ll never hear the Stones or Pink Floyd here.” Was I ever wrong. I don’t quite know when it happened but it did. Last time I was in New York I had to take the elevator to the 39th floor of 500 Fifth Avenue. I was dreading the ride. I was pleased to hear a cut from Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” album. That is, happy till I heard this twelve- or thirteen-year-old brat—er, child—behind me turn to her friend, laughing, and pointing up to the speaker and saying “I hate elevators!” At least my grandsons think I’m KEWL!

Enjoy!