we are on the third floor

I went for a check up today and as I was heading from the parking garage to the main entrance of the building, I walked by an elderly lady sitting on a bench talking on a cell phone. I heard her say the following in that accent that life long Houstonians have: "we had to park on the third floor because he wouldn't valet. I liked to died getting over here." I paid her no mind and took my time getting to the elevator. My doctor is on the second floor and I chatted with the receptionist about the girls and then took my time finding magazines. I sat down and started reading, when the lady and her husband came to the seats across from me. The following is their conversation, which I began writing down on my phone's notebook. I don't know their names, but we will call her Gladys and him Herman.

Gladys in a very loud voice because Herman is obviously hard of hearing: we are on the third floor. We are on the third floor. Did you hear me? We are on the third floor.

Random lady in another seat: actually ma'am, we are on the second floor right now.

Gladys: oh, I know that honey but I am telling him where he parked. (to herman) We are on the third floor. I am gonna write that down in case I pass out and they have to come and get us. I am writing it down right here (gesturing to a scrap of paper), because I think I am going to pass out, in case ems has to come and get us. We should have used the valet. We are on the third floor. Do you hear me?

Now, all this time Herman has been reading the paper. But he chooses this time to chime in: ein, zwei, drei, uno dos tres, one two three...

Gladys(yelling): stop that (of course that has two syllables when she says it)

Herman: third floor.

Gladys(glancing down at her orthopedic sandals and bright orange pedicure): oh my lord I did not put my stockings on. it is cold in here. I am puttin' this ticket in my purse with my phone. You need it to leave. We are on the third floor.

Then she read her section of the paper and he continued reading his.

Later, I packed up the kids and drove to my parents house for a little pre-Christmas visit. I sat and watched as my dad was lying on the floor getting instructions from my mom on how to straighten the Christmas tree and then told him to get up and come and look at it. He declined in a somewhat grumpy manner. Then she asked me what I thought.

We are on the third floor.