I knew it. I just knew those rickety elevators in our office building were going to let me down someday. Amazingly it took more three years for it to happen. But on our way home from work tonight, we didn't make it past the elevator. At least not for a while.
I'm glad Scott leaves at the same time as me and I'm glad we were the only ones in the elevator. As we descended, the elevator gave a little jerk when it reached the first floor. We looked at each other. We looked at the doors. They didn't open. We looked at each other. I tried pressing the door open button. Nothing happened. I pressed it again, harder. And again. Nothing. Should I press another floor and see if it will go up? I ask. Sure, he says. So I do. Nothing. So I press the alarm button and the front desk security guard asks if we are stuck and we say yes. Are we fine? Yes, fine. Okay, he says, I'm calling the elevator guy. A few minutes later he is on the intercom again. The elevator guy will be here in a few minutes, just stay put. Where else are we going? We sat on the floor and played games on our phones. No signal to post our misfortune on Facebook. Drat.
Thankfully we were stuck less than 20 minutes. And we really were fine. The elevator didn't plunge to any depths and neither of us is quite that claustrophobic. So we survived.
But I might take the stairs tomorrow.
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