HOW TO BE INCONSPICUOUS

This afternoon I have a gazillion things to do.  One of them is bringing mail to one of my siblings at the rehab.  She needs her TV guide (came in the mail) and the cards that were dropped off for her.  The thing is, and this will sound much worse than the reality, I do not want to see her today.  I honestly haven't got the time to spare.

I sneak in a quick incognito visit when I know she'll still be out at a medical appointment.  Geewillikers-shucks, I missed ya - that kind of incognito.

I pass by the front desk without checking in or signing in, strutting on by like I own the joint.  If I don't talk to anyone or write my name in a ledger, I don't exist, right?  I'm like the ninja visitor.

As I round the corner, someone is mopping the floor.  I step by without making eye contact.  If we don't interact, I don't exist on the same plane, which means I can pretend not to be seen, therefore he doesn't really see me.  (Logic!) 

Unfortunately, one of the residents is standing by the elevator.  "And here's ANOTHER new face!  So many people here today that I don't know!" 

(Could've used this sign today)

Shit.  Apparently my cloak of invisibility isn't working.  Either that or she has x-ray vision.  I hurry by and casually say, "Just visiting," letting my words trail behind me like a NASCAR driver making a pass on a high-banked curve.  I hit the elevator button and prepare to invisibly ride up to the second floor.

I head directly for my sibling's room, the very end of a long hallway, walking like a total boss.  I pay attention to no one.  A quick look to my left to make sure she's not in the activities room, and I am good to go. 

The roommate's television is on.  This is not a good sign.  I do not want to talk to anyone.  However, in true roommate fashion, Roommy is fully dressed and passed out sideways on the end of her hospital bed.  Excellent.  She looks like my drinking buddies after a bender.  I slip the cards and the TV guide onto my sister's table tray and skeedaddle out of there.

The elevator down is challenging because it is rigged to prevent runners; in other words, no long-term residents need to be frolicking unescorted in the nearby woods.  I enter the code (I'm in the know), press the star button and then the elevator button.  Nobody sees me.  There are residents sitting in chairs and on benches, but they pay me no mind whatsoever.

I get into the elevator and press the button for floor number one, but nothing happens.  I press it again, and still the doors stay open and I remain immobile.  I see the "door close" button inside the elevator.  Good call -- I'll force the doors closed.  I lean forward, press the button, and...

SIRENS!  BELLS!  SCREECHING!

I have accidentally pressed the alarm button, not the door close button. Suddenly there are people everywhere.  Attendants stick their heads into the elevator to make sure I'm not an escapee.  "It's all good!"  I shout.  "My bad!  Wrong button!"

So much for my incognito visit.  It's hard to be inconspicuous when one is determined to set off alarms.  As the elevator doors open to the first floor, my buddy from earlier is still standing there, the same lady who didn't recognize me (because she'd never seen me, but that's beside the point).

"Have a wonderful day!"  I tell her, since I am no longer invisible.

"Oh, you too!" she chimes back to the obviously visible me.  If I can just make it to my car all the way across the lot before my sibling arrives back from her medical appointment, I'm golden.  Don't worry -- I'll be back when she's ready for visitors, but for now I'll remain as inconspicuous as possible so I can get to some of the gazillion things still awaiting me at home.