Imagine behind trapped on the 54th floor of a building with no way to escape, short of a Hans Gruber exit. But, the theme of captivity started much earlier in the day, the second day of Doors Open. First, I visited the Hare Krishna Temple on Avenue Road.
I am not averse to removing my shoes if asked. I was entering a holy place after all, and so I removed my shoes and placed them in a shoe hole, then wandered into the temple, hoping to have a look around and maybe take some photos. Instead, I was met by a devotee who apologized profusely for having been occupied with another visitor. Instead of leaving me to my own devices, he brought me over and assured me that he would offer a recap at the end to cover what I had missed.
And then, he proceeded to dump huge amounts of information about the Hare Krishna beginning with a photo of George Harrison. I was dying to leave, and not because of any antipathy to the Hare Krishna. I mean, I love their song, mostly because I am a fan of highly repetitive music. It's just that I had seen the temple and had a huge list of other places to go. Then, the refreshments person came by and apologized for not having the refreshments ready.
The whole time, some other devotee - with one tuft of hair on the back of his head - paced around the balcony that enclosed three fourths of the building. He was as mesmerizing as a pendulum, so exact in his pacing. Back and forth he went, almost like a rat in a cage, checking and rechecking for an exit or for enlightenment. I wondered if he was some sort of automaton. Back and forth he went with such deliberate precision I had to stop watching, though it was difficult to avert my eyes.
Soon enough, we got the onion and garlic speech. The minutes were ticking by and I was dying to leave, so I said: "Excuse me. I am really sorry, but I have to leave. I have some more engagements." The dude looked hurt, really. He tried to get another devotee to take me, and then I got the real sense that I was being proselytized to, and when that happens, I flee or slam doors. "Just five more minutes," he pleaded. You would have thought that his world was ending, just because I decided to bail.
I imagine that he cursed me, the garlic and onion eater, as I left to find my shoes.
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So, this is a misnamed post. The 54th floor story will have to come tomorrow.
