Believe it or not

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 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:  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