"Going up?" asks the cherry lipped girl in the elevator, her powdered face is crowned by a beehive hair style which oddly personifies the question. You step in and notice another occupant whose substantial mustache, blue-toned sunglasses and a pungent scent of aftershave enhances the developing confusion. As the elevator climbs, you watch the buttons light up (ting, ting, ting) and silently wonder how much caffeine the barista injected into your latte this morning.