In or out, up or down, what to do!

My new apartment and new job have raised a few etiquette questions of late. Before now, I've never had access to a hot tub or used elevators every day.

First, the hot tub. It seats seven and is near my apartment, making it convenient for a little after-work dip now and again, just to wind down. I always look out my window to make sure nobody is in there first, because hot tubs have a certain reputation, and I don't want to walk up on that, if you get my drift.

But just as I was settling into a nice soak last week, this couple with matching long, overprocessed hair, beer bellies and bad teeth settled in across from me.

The man smiled widely and seemed pleased, finding himself in a hot tub with a couple of chicks. You could almost hear the "bowm chicka bowm bowm" flowing from his brain. The woman clearly wanted to kill me.

Obviously, I didn't want to spend the next 20 minutes either staring back at or making uncomfortable chit chat with this couple. Here's where the etiquette question comes in: Do I hop out, making them feel like pariahs, or do I stick it out despite my discomfort?

Luckily, it started to sprinkle. "Oh no!" I exclaimed, just a bit too loudly. "I've got a paperback book out here and don't want it getting wet!" Then I quickly took my leave.

Smooooooth, huh?

On to the elevators.

My elevator usage is a little complicated. If I woke up and worked out, I take the elevator at my office.

Hey ... I've done my 30 minutes, and there's no need to get additional, unnecessary exercise. If I skipped my morning workout, I take the stairs, unless I'm wearing heels. Trust me, five minutes of an elevated heart rate isn't worth ending up at the bottom of four flights, my limbs splayed out in every direction.

Finally, if someone is holding the elevator door open for me, I take the elevator, no matter what.

That's where the etiquette question comes in. Countless times, I've been holding the elevator open for someone who's say, 20 feet behind me, and he or she just rushes by, explaining, "I'm taking the stairs." In fact, people more often take the stairs than get into the elevator when I'm holding the door.

I encounter enough cruel people in the course of the day who would tell me if I had body odor. They haven't. My photo proves I do not have a Night Stalker-type appearance that gives people pause before they spend a 15-second ascent or descent with me.

So what do I do? Keep facing the rejection every time, or shimmy through those double doors, hit my floor and ignore the people racing up behind me? What if the person is a supervisor? Should I try to judge based on body mass index? Because I've seen some pretty fat people take the stairs, including myself.

I can't imagine Miss Manners would address these kinds of things, but it's worth a shot.

Signed, Flummoxed in Florida

Heidi Hall is a former managing editor of the Southeast Missourian who now lives in St. Petersburg, Fla.