This week, I was covering a story at the Fort Worth Club. I’ve been there quite a bit over the past few years because I’m kind of a big deal.

The Fort Worth Hispanic Chamber of Commerce was holding a luncheon. The Fort Worth Chief of Police and Tarrant County Sheriff were there as part of a discussion on the state’s ban on sanctuary cities and whether and when law enforcement should work with the federal government on “immigration detainers.”

Protesters came in, saying ICE detainers tear apart families. They’re upset the sheriff is willing to work with the federal government.

Both the sheriff and police chief made points of saying they’d been reaching out to communities to tell them no officer would ask about immigration status during a traffic stop or if someone is held for a misdemeanor. The sheriff said an ICE detainer is only a possibility if someone is held for a violent crime or felony, like murder or sexual assault.

“I don’t think anybody wants those people in their neighborhood,” he said.

The protestors said the issue had become too political.

These issues are complex enough without having to think about how to use an elevator. I feel like that statement stands on its own, but let me explain:

When I pulled in, the Fort Worth Club was more crowded than usual. I had to park in the auxiliary garage about a block away. I’m a kind of a big deal, but I’m not that big of a deal. This blog is not about immigration reform. I suspect one or two people you know have already weighed in on either side. This blog is about elevators getting too complicated.
​
I am not old fashioned.

When I pulled in, I parked and walked to the elevators. This caused me to question everything I thought I knew about how elevators work.

It looked like contractors were doing some work. There weren’t any buttons to cause an elevator to come to you, so I figured it’d be easy enough to walk up the ramp.

A woman had just parked and walked up. She explained, “No, you just use the touchscreen to tell the elevators where you want to go. Then it’ll tell you which will be the first elevator to arrive. You only need one button.”

​I am not old fashioned.

Once we got inside, I became flummoxed again. But not so flummoxed I didn’t think to take pictures.

“There are still no buttons!” I exclaimed. This was the most I had ever spoken italics since I moved to Fort Worth.

“It’s okay,” the woman said patiently, like a mother explains a concept to her eight year old son. “The touchscreen outside already told the elevator where we’re going.”

The Fort Worth Club was prepared by the time I left. This time, in the lobby of the building, a guy was standing there, asking what level each person had parked on. Then he pushed the button on the touchscreen.

​The attendant, though, wasn’t wearing a crisp uniform or smock or something with white gloves, though. Would the touchscreen even recognize if someone tapped a floor while wearing a white glove?! These elevators are causing proper society to collapse! If the elevators communicate with each other and decide which will arrive first, what’s to stop the elevators from becoming sentient and deciding you don’t deserve to go to the Fort Worth Club and instead take you to the bowels of hell?! Where only Satan controls whether you can write in italics?!

These concerns are completely justified. I am not old fashioned.