Pride, the Final Frontier

Doors. The natural enemy of man.

As long as there has been man, there have been doors. Apart from before there were walls, which came after man, unless you subscribe to the theory that God created walls and man simply worked out how to put a door in them, which I think is a belief only really held popularly in Rhyl.

So, there was me, and there was the door, and the door wouldn't open. I pushed, I pulled, I yelled OPEN SESAME, which annoyingly didn't attract any attention what-so-ever. I wagered it was one of those you had to press a button to unlock, if I rang the bell maybe the secretary would 'buzz me in' so to speak. But no, no obvious bell/intercom paraphernalia to be seen. I just don't know what to do.

Then, as if by magic, a small child appears on the other side, he must be about 5 years old, certainly no older than 6, but he looks at me, I look at him, and I know, despite his years, he understands my predicament. He heads to the left of the door, there is a release button! He pushes it. The door is released, my nightmare is about to be over. I grab the door handle and I pull...

Nothing.

I push!

Nothing.

Crap.

Then, the child looks at me again, but not with the same understanding. Now there is confusion on his face, he doesn't know why the door isn't opening either. Maybe it's broken. That would explain it. That would get us both of the hook. We won't have been bested by the door, it is simply failing in its purpose of being a door, it has become, if anything, a wall, and as we all know from our friends in North Wales, walls are made by God, in fact, walls ARE God. Neither of us can be expected to triumph over God, nobody will judge us for this.

No. It's not broken. The child's confused expression has faded and, well, things are not looking good for me at all. Looking back I don't think he actually sighed, but he may as well have. He looked to the floor, reached out an arm, and pushed the door open without difficulty. Then he looked up at me with that expression.

Now I see this expression quite often. I see it when I stall my car and get it stuck in the middle of a pedestrian crossing. I see it when a girl realises I'm just not going to be able to rip that condom packet open by myself. I see it when I've opened my mouth to share a common confession and it quickly becomes apparent that it is in fact 'just me'. I see it most of all when I drop things, all over the floor, scattering and rolling about the place. I am, in many ways, not an impressive man. I'm used to being looked at with that combination of weary pity and slight disgust. But usually from people closer to my age, people who have had the time and the practice to master the simple things I seem to find so difficult.

"Thank you.", I managed to say.

"It's OK." and off he walked, i didn't look, but he must have been shaking his head as he went.