The handle of my suitcase in one hand, I pushed the elevator button with the other, so I didn't have to carry my suitcase down the stairs. I wanted to visit my parents. The doors of the elevator opened, but it wasn't empty as I expected, there was a man inside. I walked into the tiny elevator, where I had to stand with my face towards the mirrored wall, with my suitcase behind me, which was standing in front of the wall with the buttons. The man was facing the elevator buttons.

I peeked at him in the mirror. He looked angry. He looked like he hadn't shaved in a couple of days. His stubbles had grey streaks in them. He looked like he was about 50 years old. He was wearing a New York Yankees cap, glasses with modern black frames, a black blazer, jeans and sneakers.

The door was still open on the level where I had entered.

"Could you push the button?" I said and turned my head towards him. I meant the button that closes the door.

He blurted out: "Now I have to serve you? An old man has to serve the young!"

The door had closed on its own.

He shook his head: "Just get a hotel room, I can't believe it..."

"It wouldn't have been a problem..." I didn't know what to say.

We arrived at the ground floor and the door opened. The man stepped out of the elevator and hurried away.