OK, it was after my fiancée, Caitlin, had modeled in a fashion show yesterday at the Purdue football stadium press boxes, Shivley. There was a big crowd waiting on elevators, because apparently they had hired engineers who graduated from Indiana University to design this building and the only way to get a few hundred people down three levels was to use three very slow elevators. So anyways, we, Caitlin, my mother, and I, were next in line. We herd the ding of the an elevator opening its doors so we could get on. It was the elevator to the far left, this elevator was not working earlier that day when I had gone to the fashion show that afternoon and I was thinking "Man, I hope this one is working OK now". But since everyone started to get on and my leg, which I just had surgery on a week ago to put nine pins and a plate in, was in pain from not having it elevated at the show the last two hours and because I was tired of standing in line with my crutches I crutched my way onto the elevator and took my position against the back right corner of the elevator so I could lean on the hand rail a bit. About fifteen of us packed into this elevator for a “short” elevator ride down.
There was my mom, Caitlin, two old couples, two ladies who looked like sisters in their seventies by their white hair and awkward mannerisms, a younger couple who looked like they were in college, four girls who look like they were in college but displayed the maturity level of sophomores in high school, and me, the gimp in the corner. One of the white haired sisters pushed the button for floor one. The doors closed and we felt the elevator buzz as it lowered it’s self down to the first floor. The numbers changed from three to two to one and the elevator stopped. We all looked at the doors in anticipation of them opening, but not thing happened. We all quietly waited a few more seconds and I though, “This thing better not be broken.” One of the girl’s said, “Oh this one takes a while to open” as another one of the girls said “It better open because I am Closter phobic!” but it did not open. Then the girl, who was the FIRST one on the elevator mind you, told us, “This is the one that got stuck earlier today and the fire station had to come and rescue people out of it.” Some one said to the old white haired ladies, “push the door open button.” While, they were trying to find it one of them said “Oh, this button is flashing,” then she leaned closer and read out loud “If this light is flashing then emergency help is on its way.” Everyone let out this sigh to say “Oh great.” Except the girl who was Closter phobic, she flipped out, “OH MY ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Push the call button and get someone to help us, please.” So, the old white haired lady pushed the button and had a short conversation that started with the emergency dispatcher saying “911 what is your emergency?” and the old lady screaming back, “WE ARE TRAPPED IN AN ELEVATOR.” I think she was not yelling because she was scared but yelling because she didn’t know where to talk to on the wall of buttons in front of her. The dispatcher said that she had gotten the alarm and had already notified the fire station, who was on their way to help us.
We all settled in for the wait, I was trying not to stay in one position for to long because my left leg hurt from being the only leg I could stand on with all my weight and my arms hurt from being on crutches. So, I had to constantly shift my weight from my left foot to my arms so each one would not get too tired. I occupied my time by using the mirrors on the ceiling to take pictures of everyone so I had pictures of everyone I was trapped on the elevator with. The whole time we waited, about twenty minutes, this Closter phobic girl went on in this dramatic scene of every emotion from crying, to totally content, to nervous and talking about the building catching on fire, to playing a game on her phone, then wanting to call the emergency dispatch again, which the old white haired lady did, then the girl was laughing and joking. This whole time everyone was trying to calm her down and convince her it was going to be ok, not really for her sake but mostly for their sake of being stuck listening to her freak out. My mom, a woman who speaks before she thinks on occasion, asked “Does it feel like we are moving, like swinging back and forth a bit?” I quickly hushed her and asked her what was wrong with her, if the girl would have heard her question she would have lost it completely. Then my mother perked up again at one point, this time she had thought a little bit more, and said in her southern drawl. “Well I teach stress management and started offering advice to the girl, which actually seemed to help, for a bit.
Then we heard a bang and the lights went out. It was the power being turned off to the elevator so the firemen could pry open the doors. This took another few minutes while the doors slowly opened a bit at a time. The Closter phobic girl was chanting for them to open the doors screaming things like: “Come on get the doors open.”, “You are men, you can do it.” And “Please, hurry.” Then all of the sudden the doors slide all the way open and the firemen stood on each side holding the doors back. Everyone started exiting and the Closter phobic girl was one of the first off and as she forced her way out of the elevator she said to the firemen, “What took you so long? Was it really that hard guys?” Which one fireman replied to her saying, “I can put ya backing there, if you want?” Everyone else got a big kick out of it except her. We found our way to the car and realized there are some things you think would be exciting and unique experiences until they happen then you realize they are really not that exciting and you don’t ever want to experience it again.
