Three priests and a plumber get into an elevator...

One day I found myself waiting to get on an elevator. Suddenly an old high school friend of mine, who is now a priest came around the corner with two fellow priests. We exchanged hello's and my friend and I had a moment to catch up. We had seen each other recently before this, so we were relatively current with our news. They were going to the 5th floor for a dinner, and I was going to the fourth for the same.
The elevator doors opened, and I naturally held the door for the priests so they could enter before me. After we began our ascent, for some reasons I said out loud, "Three priests and a plumber get into an elevator..." As the words were coming out of my mouth, the little voice inside my head was telling me to stop, but it was too late. The Catholic school boy inside thought for sure that I was perpertrating some sort of sin and was going to hell, but the Irishman's gift of blarney inside me had already committed to the act, and there was no going back. How many Hail Mary's and Our Father's were in my future? I had not pissed off a priest since my junior year in high school when I nudged a vending machine in the school cafeteria that had swallowed my quarters without giving up the Fig Newtons, and faced utter embarrassment in front of half the school when the good Padre admonished me on the spot. I knew that what I did to that machine was wrong and accepted my punishment, and really never gave it much thought again. Now, as the words were coming out of my mouth in the elevator, I became the high school kid in the cafeteria again and thought for sure that a swift admonishment was coming my way.
Much to my surprise, all the Father's let out big laughs. One of the priests whom I did not know even uttered the words "Good one". Relieved, I swear that I heard the cookies fall to the bottom of the vending machine.
Luckily, before my Irish wit could try to get any more laughs, the doors of the elevator opened. I wished them all a good night, and made my exit.
For years, I have tried to finish that joke and have even solicited help from people to whom I have told this story. To date, the joke remains unfinished probably because the premise is really not that funny. It played well in the elevator at that time because it was in the moment.
The joke may not ever be finished, but it did provide me with an ending. As kids, we make mistakes and the reaction of adults to our errors stick with us for years to come, possibly even influencing how we react as adults to errors our kids make. In that nanosecond in the elevator, I was brought back to high school standing in front of a priest as he demonstrated in front of my peers on my legs his exaggerated interpretation of what I had done to the vending machine. Clearly, he hastily overreacted. My unfinished joke has taught me to step back when others do something that I perceive to be a mistake, to consider my reaction and to give them a chance to fix the error. Fig Newton anyone?