You ever notice the social contract in an elevator? It’s like we all collectively agree to engage in the most insipid small talk known to man. ‘Going up?’ No, I’m just standing here, waiting for the building to reconfigure itself around me. And the silence! Oh, the unbearable silence. It’s like we’re afraid of being alone with our thoughts for thirty seconds. So we talk about the weather. ‘Looks like rain.’ Yeah, it’s called *clouds*, buddy. It’s like we’re all trying to avoid eye contact with the existential dread of being confined in a small metal box with strangers.
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