Elevator Woes

No one will murder me.  No one will kidnap me.  A taxi will not run over me.  But, the likelihood is pretty good that our elevator will end me.

Say your goodbyes now.

Our apartment building is old and not everything functions properly.  The elevator is a prime example.  It’s the one thing that I do want to work right in our building since it’s what could also kill me.

Several months ago, the elevator randomly stopped working, prompting everyone to climb and haul belongings up five flights of stairs.  Ben viewed the situation as a great way to get exercise, but I saw it as a form of torture and feared it would never be fixed secondary to some tiny clause in our lease that I overlooked. 

Fortunately, maintenance fixed it.  But, then it broke again.  So, they fixed it again.  This broken-fixed-broken-fixed relationship continued for weeks.

It annoyed me, but didn’t scare me.  Until the day we walked into the building and pushed the button to go up.  We heard no murmur of the elevator moving.  Instead, we heard voices crying, “help us.”  We bolted to the fourth floor where the voices were the loudest. 

Apparently, the elevator broke mid-ride and between the third and fourth floors with two tenants inside!  Their roommate stood outside the elevator on the phone negotiating their release with the building superintendent.  By the time we arrived the girls had been waiting in the elevator for an hour and a half.  By then their hysteria had faded into a calm delirium.

After the girl’ rescue, and as much as that single incident should have persuaded me to never set foot in the elevator again, I rode it the next morning. 

Luckily, I have managed to avoid a situation that extreme, but I have panicked a few times.  Like the two times the doors opened to a concrete and brick wall of pipes.  Or the countless times the doors opened six inches below the level of the floor.  Ben once climbed up and crawled out of the elevator when it similarly stopped several feet below the floor.

It’s hard to believe we haven’t called and complained yet.

I guess the point of this story is to alert readers to the realization that if posts suddenly cease to appear… I have probably departed this sweet Earth.  It wasn’t a crazy driver.  It wasn’t an axe murderer.  It was a defunct elevator.