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