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lousy elevator ride

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

The elevators in our building are notorious for their poor behaviour; today I had my first real taste of their dysfunction.

The elevator rose normally to the fourth floor, where everyone else got off. Then a lady stepped on, and hit the '6' button. I was already dialed in for the eighth. We rose a floor and then wham—the elevator lurched to a back-jarring halt. "Shit," I exclaimed. Looking at the control board, I noticed that all of the buttons were "unpressed".

"Oh, don't say that," my in-mate then pleaded. I'm not sure if she was speaking to me or the elevator.

Pointing at the control board, I said, "Uh, I—"

The elevator began to slowly rise again. The two of us made worried sounds. Then—wham. It stopped again. "Oh, don't say that," the lady repeated. It then lurched upward dramatically, "Oh no," she called, reaching for me.

I started pressing buttons. Would it perhaps let us off at 7 or 8 before plunging to its doom?

But we passed seven at the new, higher speed. "Uh, fu-"

Ding! The doors opened on eight.

Quickly, we jumped off. The lady asked me, "Can I use your back door to get back down to four?"

I showed her where the door to the stairs was. "I think it's locked on each floor, you can't get back inside once you're out."

"I don't care!" she exclaimed.

I went back to me desk.

Three good things that happened today:

1. It's a beautiful day.

2. I met some interesting people at lunch.

3. I survived the elevator trip.