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One Nation Under God, With Elevators for All?

I acted unlawfully yesterday. In a fit of intemperance, I rode in the Senator-only elevator at the Russell building. In fact, I rode in it twice.

For all you non-Senators, the elevator itself is ho-hum. Nothing special there: floors, walls, ceiling, buttons, doors. No, the elevator itself was a bore.

The real excitement is the opening of the doors upon arrival. At that moment, one has no idea whether or not Senator So and So will be waiting impatiently before the doors, unsure why his or her elevator took so long. Indeed, the tension mounts as the doors slowly slide open, and the mind of the non-Senator is still frantically piecing together a viable parry to the Senatorial thrust of “What are you doing in the Senator-only elevator?” I tell you: What a rush. 

It was, moreover, a premeditated assault upon Congressional privilege. Only hours prior my ascent/descent, standing before a set of elevators in the Hart building, I first learned of the existence of the Senator-only elevator. I was flabbergasted. Since when does this country give credence to airs? My mind harked back to Adams' unfortunate title campaign.

I voiced my incredulity, and my interlocutor assured me that the elevator was a necessary evil. He told me that Senators often had to rush to Senate floor because it was difficult to schedule a vote in between fundraisers and presidential preening.  

That seemed reasonable enough for me. So I sat, contented.

My state of contentment was short lived, however. For at that very moment, as if on cue, the doors to the Senator-only elevator parted, and out stepped Senator Non Descript White Male, in a full athletic jump suit. Obviously, the Senator was not rushing to or from state business.

I was outraged. I was indignant. I am living in an era of elevator apartheid!

And so, on behalf of the 299,999,900 non-Senators in this great country, I acted unlawfully.