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May 22, 2007 at 07:16:17

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Black Robbers

by the web     Page 1 of 1 page(s)

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Subject: Black Robbers

For anyone who didn't see David Letterman's take on this: (And it's 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 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 tall...very tall...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 and ashamed. She hoped they didn't read her mind but Gosh, they had to know what she was thinking!!!

Her hesitation about joining them in the elevator was all too obvious now. 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 as 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 to do What they told her. The bucket of quarters flew upwards as she threw out her arms and collapsed on the elevator floor. 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. The woman 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 friend 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. The woman 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 three of them gathered up the strewn quarters and refilled her bucket. When the elevator arrived at her floor they then 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 as 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


 

anonymously sourced from either the web or a forwarded email.

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2 comments

A writer is a rogue goose. All other gees fly in a flock formation; every goose knows his place and time for honking. The rogue goose is undisciplined. He leaves the formation indiscriminately to have a look at it from aside. He roams back and forth, takes a peep at the leader, honks a little bit from behind, distracts everyone and writes on what he sees. Time passes and as he wants to return back to his place he discovers someone else there. Thus he either has to wait until they land for rest...

to see more of bio, click on member name

Mark SashineA writer is a rogue goose. All other gees fly in a flock formation; every goose knows his place and time for honking. The rogue goose is undisciplined. He leaves the formation indiscriminately to have a look at it from aside. He roams back and forth, takes a peep at the leader, honks a little bit from behind, distracts everyone and writes on what he sees. Time passes and as he wants to return back to his place he discovers someone else there. Thus he either has to wait until they land for rest...

to see more of bio, click on member name

There are only two questions:

1. What kind of a stupid person takes her winning in quarters  and goes with the bucket to her room istead of asking the casino to put it under protection?

2. What kind of a husband is that who lets his wife to go alone with a bucket full of money ( coins, but still..)  and neither suggests to ask a casino to take care of it  nor accompanies her?

 

Thanks for the laugh.

by Mark Sashine (54 articles, 19 quicklinks, 252 diaries, 3605 comments) on Tuesday, May 22, 2007 at 8:10:07 AM
 


Magdelena
MagdelenaMagdelena

An Old Urban Legend

I first heard this story (the guy who told me also swore it was true) about 20 years ago and snopes.com says it's been around the Internet since at least 1997. Let's all check our gullibility levels before we get carried away.

by Magdelena (0 articles, 0 quicklinks, 0 diaries, 1 comments) on Tuesday, May 22, 2007 at 6:08:40 PM
 

 

2 comments

 

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