Last week, I got into an elevator after work to reach the parking garage. I was headed for the top level, but the elevator stopped about halfway there.
When the doors opened, there was a group of about six guys in their 20s standing around. A couple of them looked at me, but nobody made a move. However, as soon as I reached over to push the “close door” button, they lunged forward.
“Sorry,” one of them said as they piled on, squishing me into a corner. I could hear them mumbling about whether they should go up or down, and which floor they wanted.
So, being a generally helpful person, I decided to ask their destination and offer directions.
But what I said, absolutely inexplicably, was this: “Where you tryin’ to git?”
Like a cowboy. I’m not kidding.
Not “Where do you want to go?” or “Where are you headed?” or even “Where are you trying to get TO?” But “Where you tryin’ to git.” I might as well have spat tobacky into a nearby spittoon and moseyed on back to the ranch.
This brand new configuration of words, which I’ve never said before in my entire life, just popped out of my mouth, and I heard it happening, and then there was nothing I could do about it. I didn’t even have the excuse of playing too much Red Dead Redemption II to account for my odd mode of speech.
The guys, to their credit, simply responded that they were on their way to a basketball game, and I told them either first or second level would be good options.
They thanked me, and I stepped off at my floor. Then I turned and said, “You guys have a good night.” And if I’d been wearing a hat, I swear I would've tipped it.