I do not know how to start this one. I am truly at a loss for words in my most recent scenario, yet compelled to share it with you.
It all started in the city of Akron. Land of LeBron James. We were there for a Track and Field meet and were relaxing in the hotel.
After some quality time and teammate bonding with Chan "The Love Man" Brown, I felt it was necessary to run away, so I began to run. I was approaching the elevator and ran into everyone's favorite 400 meter hurdler Brooklynn Ventura. She was going on the same elevator, so we entered. I pressed "Door Close" so Mr. Brown couldn't get on, but as they closed and I turned around, he was right behind me, smiling as if I was his next victim.
The following is a detailed description of the next hour and a half of my life. This is all based on true events.
As in any elevator trip, everyone pressed the respective floor they were going to. The only difference in this trip was that the elevator apparently picked a floor too. I didn't see the button it pressed but the sudden drop of the elevator was a slight sign. We all looked at each other and immediately knew something was wrong. We felt no movement and heard no sounds. Were we stuck on the elevator? Not even in my wildest dreams has this happened, but yes, we were stuck on the elevator between the 3rd and 2nd floors.
The first one to fall victim to the emotion of panic, too many peoples surprise...Brooklynn. Approximately 1 minute after we discovered that we were stuck, Ms. Ventura had already had enough. It also didn't help that she had to use the bathroom, developing a disruptive sensation for poor Ms. Ventura and unleashing was is often referred to as "Angry Brooklynn".
In the midst of Brooklynn's newly acquired rage, Mr. Brown, calmly picked up the emergency phone and spoke to a representative at the front desk. He peacefully asked for assistance and politely thanked them for their help. This is when it sunk in that I was stuck in an elevator and did not know when I was getting out.
According to Brooklynn, she still had to use the bathroom.
We sat in the elevator waiting for a few minutes until we heard voices. Excited and energized, we all stood up, hoping our adventure was over. It was our loving teammates. They all came to the door asking about Brooklynn's safety and ensuring that she was okay. They asked how she was doing and made sure that nothing had happened to her. Nothing was asked about Chandler or I, putting a huge dent in our self-esteem and sense of security. Well there was a dent in mine to say the least.
For the next 15 minutes, each individual teammate asked the following. "Are you stuck in the elevator?" Yes we were, and it hasn't changed since the first person who asked, so quite frankly the repetition was increasingly aggravating. When our teammates left finally, there was a brief moment of panic spotted in "The Love Man" Chan. He said, and I quote "That's it! I'm busting out of this elevator!" I looked on as I watched him transform into a ferocious Andrew-like specimen. He approached the doors, let out an almighty roar, and began to slide open the doors. My mouth dropped as did my heart. The "joy" of "teammate bonding" had just increased to an unimaginable level.
What seemed like our way out was only a false alarm, as there was another door that could not be opened so we were back at square one. To make matters even worse, our teammates came back. This time with a cop who informed us that we had to wait another 30-45 minutes before someone could come to help us out. This was the worst news to hear when stuck in an elevator, because Brooklynn made sure we knew, at 5 minute increments, that she still had to use the bathroom.
We were trapped in the elevator, unsure of when we were to be released. As caged animals, we had minimal food sources (two half eaten Pasta Bowls from Domino's to be precise, which were later used as pillows), no interaction with anyone but each other, could only be spoken to through a tiny slit in the elevator door, and a slightly polluted air source (the polluter has not come forth yet). Delirium ensued.
Napping was amongst my first options, but after Chan and I discovered the measurements of the elevator, it was going to be too difficult to get comfortable. Also, once Chan was slashed by stray nails that decorated the walls of the elevator twice, I figured that my reckless sleeping habits could prove to be dangerous at this particular time. I tried meditation and prayer as a substitute, yet neither of which brought salvation to the elevator.
Singing was my next option, which was one of the lighter parts of the night. Chan and I sang a beautiful rendition of Shai/Boyz II Men's "If I Ever Fall in Love", as well as an accurate arrangement of "See You In My Nightmares" by Kanye West but the night was stolen by once again, none other than Brooklynn. She managed to squeeze her size 5 feet (give or take half a size) into Chan's size 10 wheat Timberland boots, stood up and performed Ke$ha's "Tik Tok". Using innovative dance moves not seen since the late and great King of Pop, Michael Jackson, she gave a performance that I will never in my life forget.
After some guest appearances by our Coaches, and a few more teammates, we remained trapped in the elevator. We had all came to (or at least Chan and I thought we came to) an understanding that our phones had lost service or had low battery at the beginning of this experience, so contact with the outer world was limited and rationed. Chan and I were given one call to my brother, while Brooklynn called two or three people and texted the night away. Can you guess whose phone lost service and had low battery?
Tired, exhausted, and frustrated, we had all come to the realization that we had involuntarily been given a new room for the night and there was nothing we could do about it. No one was coming to save us...ever. I started to reflex on my life and all the important things I have done. I thought about the first time I ever dunked a basketball. I thought about the first time I saw LeBron dunk. I thought about never having the chance to dunk on King Loic after being served numerous facials. Depression ensued, as I felt tears balled up in my eyes.
Then a voice. A voice came to me as if my prayers were being speed dialed back. A savior had come to rescue Brooklynn, Chandler and myself. The man told us to pull two red buttons that had been in the elevator the entire time and instantly the elevator began to move. Why we needed to wait an hour and a half for this was beyond me, but we were free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, free at last.
The doors opened and we rushed out of them like deranged fans, eager to see the 8 anonymous strangers wondering why the elevator was not answering their requests to go upstairs. As they looked confused and bewildered, we told them that we had been stuck on the elevator for an hour and a half. They looked at all three of us as we went back to our rooms, and proceeded to enter the elevator despite our warning. I guess they were feeling daring, but that was not my problem. I had already paid my dues.
I look back at this night and truly am shocked that it actually happened. In contrast it has made its way into the realm of the most eventful nights of my life and I surely don't think it would be possible for me to forget it. I must thank my teammates Brooklynn Ventura and Chandler Brown for making this experience much more entertaining and bearable. We should do this again sometime. It was good, wholesome fun. To my monsters reading at home, I hope you enjoyed yourselves and that you get to experience such a time in your own lives. My one request is to make sure I am not with you. As always, until next time I'm starting with the Man in the Mirror.
Long Live The Prince
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Return of the Prince
The Prince is back.
I would first like to formally apologize for the hiatus that I was on. It was not you at all as I love my little monsters dearly, it was me. I decided that going on a little bit of a vacation would channel some of those potent chemicals that instantly drug viewers upon reading those doctrines called Club SEBU posts. I am aware that the posts are highly addictive and many of you may have gone through some early stages of withdrawal and once again I am sorry. I hope you can accept this apology.
Time to dust of the cobwebs and see if I can still do this. Welcome back monsters.
So as usual, I will set the stage before I perform. About a week ago, I was boarding the bus. Now for those of you who are familiar with my Club, you will know that I have mastered the artistry that is behind boarding a bus. Here is where the discrepancy lies. Initially, I wanted people to read my posts and learn from them. I changed my mind because someone used my tactics against me and I can't have that. Anyways, join me as I return to the scenario.
I approached the bus stop, late as usual and saw that the snakes were already out and the bus was on its way. I was in an awful position. It was looking like I was going to either stand or walk in the relentless winter season. As I heard the bus and felt shivers down my spine, I knew that Richard Prince Sebuharara was not walking outside.
My mind started to race and I felt a bit of fear. I was so far from the bus and there was no way for me to reach the front without being slightly rude. I had to revert back to my prior knowledge. The date was January 15, 2010 when I published one of the best Club SEBU posts of all-time "The Art of Bus-Boarding" and I was going to have to dig in the archives for guidance. Although the chances of me getting on the bus were grim, it was time for me to showcase my talents in bus-boarding yet again. I proceeded towards the bus.
As I walked to the bus, it seemed more like walking through a battlefield. All sorts of food left astray littered the ground and decorated the soles of my Chuck Taylors, knees and feet battered then slashed my shins and toes, while bookbags and elbow found an innate attraction to my chest and midsection.
Through all this modern warfare, I was making great progress. I was only about two steps from destiny. Although sitting was out of the equation, the ultimate goal was to make sure that I did not have to endure the harsh reigns of Ms. Mother Nature and at the looks of things, I was going to be successful. One thing served as an obstacle in my operation.
As our paths converged at the exit of the jungle, I made brief eye contact with a littler female. Eye contact is one of the deadly sins of bus-boarding. I had a slight advantage on her, so I decided it was my obligation to make my way onto the bus first to secure a position for myself. The following scene may be graphic for some so viewer's discretion is advised.
Looking back at the situation I am terribly ashamed but what's done is done. With the step I had gained on her, I decided that I would extend my leg, drop down and execute a perfectly legal "Box Out" (see The Art of Bus-Boarding for definition). Yes, I am aware that I am a horrible person for my action, but trust me when I say this...the story gets better.
In my eyes, I had established my territory. Unfortunately for me, the girl had other motives. When I felt comfortable enough to walk on to the bus, tragedy struck. The same little girl who I thought was out of the picture decided to take a hockey player's mentality and checked me right out of contention. Yes I said it and yes I can't believe it either. With thousands of emotions running through my head I did not know what else I could do but move out of the way. This girl deserved her spot on the bus more than I did. She was clearly hungrier than I was and I applaud her for her efforts. As embarrassing as it was, I learned a valuable lesson. One that I will take with me to my grave. Do not judge a book by its cover, or you will get checked out of the way.
I hope your view of me has not been altered too much as I am much tougher than this story states. Don't try anything funny or you will regret it. Thank you for welcoming me back with open arms and I hope you enjoyed yourselves. It feels good to be home. Until next time take my picture Hollywood, I wanna be a star.
Long Live The Prince
I would first like to formally apologize for the hiatus that I was on. It was not you at all as I love my little monsters dearly, it was me. I decided that going on a little bit of a vacation would channel some of those potent chemicals that instantly drug viewers upon reading those doctrines called Club SEBU posts. I am aware that the posts are highly addictive and many of you may have gone through some early stages of withdrawal and once again I am sorry. I hope you can accept this apology.
Time to dust of the cobwebs and see if I can still do this. Welcome back monsters.
So as usual, I will set the stage before I perform. About a week ago, I was boarding the bus. Now for those of you who are familiar with my Club, you will know that I have mastered the artistry that is behind boarding a bus. Here is where the discrepancy lies. Initially, I wanted people to read my posts and learn from them. I changed my mind because someone used my tactics against me and I can't have that. Anyways, join me as I return to the scenario.
I approached the bus stop, late as usual and saw that the snakes were already out and the bus was on its way. I was in an awful position. It was looking like I was going to either stand or walk in the relentless winter season. As I heard the bus and felt shivers down my spine, I knew that Richard Prince Sebuharara was not walking outside.
My mind started to race and I felt a bit of fear. I was so far from the bus and there was no way for me to reach the front without being slightly rude. I had to revert back to my prior knowledge. The date was January 15, 2010 when I published one of the best Club SEBU posts of all-time "The Art of Bus-Boarding" and I was going to have to dig in the archives for guidance. Although the chances of me getting on the bus were grim, it was time for me to showcase my talents in bus-boarding yet again. I proceeded towards the bus.
As I walked to the bus, it seemed more like walking through a battlefield. All sorts of food left astray littered the ground and decorated the soles of my Chuck Taylors, knees and feet battered then slashed my shins and toes, while bookbags and elbow found an innate attraction to my chest and midsection.
Through all this modern warfare, I was making great progress. I was only about two steps from destiny. Although sitting was out of the equation, the ultimate goal was to make sure that I did not have to endure the harsh reigns of Ms. Mother Nature and at the looks of things, I was going to be successful. One thing served as an obstacle in my operation.
As our paths converged at the exit of the jungle, I made brief eye contact with a littler female. Eye contact is one of the deadly sins of bus-boarding. I had a slight advantage on her, so I decided it was my obligation to make my way onto the bus first to secure a position for myself. The following scene may be graphic for some so viewer's discretion is advised.
Looking back at the situation I am terribly ashamed but what's done is done. With the step I had gained on her, I decided that I would extend my leg, drop down and execute a perfectly legal "Box Out" (see The Art of Bus-Boarding for definition). Yes, I am aware that I am a horrible person for my action, but trust me when I say this...the story gets better.
In my eyes, I had established my territory. Unfortunately for me, the girl had other motives. When I felt comfortable enough to walk on to the bus, tragedy struck. The same little girl who I thought was out of the picture decided to take a hockey player's mentality and checked me right out of contention. Yes I said it and yes I can't believe it either. With thousands of emotions running through my head I did not know what else I could do but move out of the way. This girl deserved her spot on the bus more than I did. She was clearly hungrier than I was and I applaud her for her efforts. As embarrassing as it was, I learned a valuable lesson. One that I will take with me to my grave. Do not judge a book by its cover, or you will get checked out of the way.
I hope your view of me has not been altered too much as I am much tougher than this story states. Don't try anything funny or you will regret it. Thank you for welcoming me back with open arms and I hope you enjoyed yourselves. It feels good to be home. Until next time take my picture Hollywood, I wanna be a star.
Long Live The Prince
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