A True Story...

On a recent weekend in Atlantic City, a woman won a
bucketful of quarters at a slot machine. She took a break from
the slots for dinner with her husband in the hotel dining room.
But first she wanted to stash the quarters in her
room.

"I'll be right back and we'll go to eat," she told her husband
and she carried the coin-laden bucket to the elevator. As she
was about to walk into the elevator she noticed two men
already aboard. Both were black. One of them was big...
very big... an intimidating figure. The woman froze. Her first
thought was: These two are going to rob me. Her next thought
was: Don't be a bigot, they look like perfectly nice gentlemen.
But racial stereotypes are powerful, and fear immobilized her.

She stood and stared at the two men. She felt anxious,
flustered, ashamed. She hoped they didn't read her mind, but
knew they surely did; her hesitation about joining them on the
elevator was all too obvious. Her face was flushed. She
couldn't just stand there, so with a mighty effort of will she
picked up one foot and stepped forward and followed with the
other foot and was on the elevator. Avoiding eye contact, she
turned around stiffly and faced the elevator doors s they
closed. A second passed, and then another second, and then
another. Her fear increased!

The elevator didn't move. Panic consumed her. My God, she
thought, I'm trapped and about to be robbed! Her heart
plummeted. Perspiration poured from every pore. Then ...one
of the men said, "Hit the floor." Instinct told her: Do what
they tell you. The bucket of quarters flew upwards as she
threw out her arms and collapsed on the elevator carpet. A
shower of coins rained down on her. Take my money and
spare me, she prayed. More seconds passed. She heard one of
the men say politely, "Ma'am, if you'll just tell us what floor
you're going to, we'll push the button."

The one who said it had a little trouble getting the words out.
He was trying mightily to hold in a belly laugh.

She lifted her head and looked up at the two men. They
reached down to help her up. Confused, she struggled
to her feet. "When I told my man here to hit the floor," said
the average sized one, "I meant that he should hit the
elevator button for our floor. I didn't mean for you to hit the
floor, ma'am." He spoke genially. He bit his lip. It
was obvious he was having a hard time not laughing.

She thought: My God, what a spectacle I've made of myself.
She was too humiliated to speak. She wanted to
blurt out an apology, but words failed her. How do you
apologize to two perfectly respectable gentlemen
for behaving as though they were going to rob you? She didn't
know what to say. The 3 of them gathered up the strewn
quarters and refilled her bucket.

When the elevator arrived at her floor they insisted on walking
her to her room. She seemed a little unsteady on her feet, and
they were afraid she might not make it down the corridor. At
her door they bid her a good evening.

As she slipped into her room she could hear them roaring with
laughter while they walked back to the elevator. The woman
brushed herself off. She pulled herself together and went
downstairs for dinner with her husband.

The next morning flowers were delivered to her room-a dozen
roses. Attached to EACH rose was a crisp one hundred dollar
bill. The card said: "Thanks for the best laugh we've had in
years." It was signed:

Eddie Murphy
Michael Jordan