Could you hold that door please? Please?

So I've always joked that whenever I'm in a elevator and some guy comes running up with his hands full screaming "Can you hold that door please?" that I was gonna pretend to push the open button, but just jam the empty spot next to it instead, and look at him apologetically. It was only a joke though, I'm not that mean.
Luckily, not all people are as cruel as I am though, which is surprising since this week's blog entry takes place in Nashville, a relatively large town. So I'm in a building with eleven stories, I need to get to the seventh one. Usually not that hard of a task. You push a button, listen to some awful tune in a small chamber, and poof you're on the correct floor.
Anyway, my father wanted me to bring him Taco Bell (disgusting restaurant) and I was on my way to bring it too him on the seventh floor. Well, there are six 7 elevators in a row, so naturally I thought "shouldnt take too long for me to catch one." Long story short, I was wrong. One finally came, but I got pushed to the back by fifteen other people, so I didn't catch it. The next one came, and the another gentlemen (who had been waiting just as long) and I got aboard. I then noticed...that particular elevator only goes to floor six. In retrospect I could have rode to six then walked up one story...but this blog isn't about my idiocracy (I used that because I know its not a word.) it's about politeness. By this point my hands are dying from supporting five people's worth of taco bell. So I get off the stupid elevator, and so does the other gentlemen because he had to go to the eighth story.
Well another elevator (that went to all the floors arrived) and a couple of, there's no other word to describe them hooligans, jumped on before us. When they turned and saw us standing there, three of them jumped off apologizing and saying we were there first. Okay so maybe not hooligans...they looked like gangstas or whatever there called nowadays though. Me and the gentlemen got on, and i wished him a good day.


Maybe not all gangstas are terrible people...

The Beginning

If you know me at all, then you know serious topics aren't really my thing. I thought I'd spread my wings a bit with this blog though. On that note, those of you who know me may also know that courtesy isn't exactly my thing, yet another thing I'm trying to change. So in summery, this blog is about change. Maybe I should explain why I chose courtesy as the theme of my blog in the first place.
About a month ago my mother was hospitalized to have a stint put into one of her heart valves, "No big deal they do this stuff every day" was my mindset. A few days ago though, something went wrong, and they had to take her to Vanderbilt to try a different, riskier procedure. I could have gone, but three AP classes warranted me to stay home...or so I thought.
When my girlfriend decided that I shouldn't stay at home alone. I didn't think it was a problem, but I had little choice in the matter as I was ordered to march home and bring clothes back for two days at least. I grumbled at the time, I mumbled, I complained. My girlfriend meanwhile, called her mother on the phone and explained to her the situation. Her mother, who knew quite well what it was like to have a loved one hospitalized, immediately insisted that I stay at their home.
Obviously two teenagers staying together under the same roof is never looked upon kindly which is one reason that I was surprised it was okay with her. The other being she doesn't particularly, enthuse, about our relationship. However in times of trouble, people can surprise you with their compassion and courtesy.
And surprise they do.