I've almost gotten stuck in our work elevators one time before. It was pretty scary, especially considering that at that moment my delicious lunch was on my desk getting cold.
However, compared to the elevator incident that I experienced this past weekend, that previous time barely even registered on the Richter Scale of Fear. I’m sure you read my sorry complaints about working this weekend and are aware that I was designing my little heart out in my dark and quiet cubicle Saturday night.
I had called a co-worker of mine who was also working on the very same project, and we both had decided to come in Saturday night, because that's what normal people do. They spend their Saturday nights hanging around office buildings. She offices on a different floor than I do, so at about 9:30 or 10:00, I decided to go see if she was here and find out how she was doing on her stuff.
I hopped on an elevator and keyed myself down to her floor. The elevator made it to the correct floor, stopped abruptly and then opened its doors about three inches. Now I am by no means a large person, but my side profile is, unfortunately, bigger than three inches.
In a moment of sheer panic, I summonsed up all of my hidden Hulk-like strength and tried to pry the doors open with my bare hands. My effort would have been laughable, had I not been so freaked out. Here I was, at 10:00 on a Saturday night, stuck in an elevator in a deserted office building where no one would find me or hear me ring the emergency bell. I had no cell phone and knew that Nick would wonder what happened to me if he didn’t hear from me. I imagined him thinking that I had been abducted, scouring the parking garage and stairwells and surrounding areas for clues, just like a very nervous and desperate Sherlock Holmes.
My poor husband frantically searching for me was partially on my mind, but more important than even that was when I stepped onto the elevator, I didn’t have to go to the bathroom. However, once I was stranded and knew I had no access to facilities, suddenly I just HAD to go.
Don't worry, I didn't pee my pants, because I instead spent several minutes pushing every single button on the elevator a few times before finally the doors mysteriously shut and I was delivered to the lobby. I got off that elevator faster than you can imagine and took a different elevator back up to my desired floor. And I still won’t take that specific elevator anywhere because of its evil nature. I’m boycotting.
By the way, I don't think I actually ended up going to the bathroom at all post-elevator incident. Isn't it funny that you only have to go when you know that it isn’t an option? I'm loads of fun on road trips.
However, compared to the elevator incident that I experienced this past weekend, that previous time barely even registered on the Richter Scale of Fear. I’m sure you read my sorry complaints about working this weekend and are aware that I was designing my little heart out in my dark and quiet cubicle Saturday night.
I had called a co-worker of mine who was also working on the very same project, and we both had decided to come in Saturday night, because that's what normal people do. They spend their Saturday nights hanging around office buildings. She offices on a different floor than I do, so at about 9:30 or 10:00, I decided to go see if she was here and find out how she was doing on her stuff.
I hopped on an elevator and keyed myself down to her floor. The elevator made it to the correct floor, stopped abruptly and then opened its doors about three inches. Now I am by no means a large person, but my side profile is, unfortunately, bigger than three inches.
In a moment of sheer panic, I summonsed up all of my hidden Hulk-like strength and tried to pry the doors open with my bare hands. My effort would have been laughable, had I not been so freaked out. Here I was, at 10:00 on a Saturday night, stuck in an elevator in a deserted office building where no one would find me or hear me ring the emergency bell. I had no cell phone and knew that Nick would wonder what happened to me if he didn’t hear from me. I imagined him thinking that I had been abducted, scouring the parking garage and stairwells and surrounding areas for clues, just like a very nervous and desperate Sherlock Holmes.
My poor husband frantically searching for me was partially on my mind, but more important than even that was when I stepped onto the elevator, I didn’t have to go to the bathroom. However, once I was stranded and knew I had no access to facilities, suddenly I just HAD to go.
Don't worry, I didn't pee my pants, because I instead spent several minutes pushing every single button on the elevator a few times before finally the doors mysteriously shut and I was delivered to the lobby. I got off that elevator faster than you can imagine and took a different elevator back up to my desired floor. And I still won’t take that specific elevator anywhere because of its evil nature. I’m boycotting.
By the way, I don't think I actually ended up going to the bathroom at all post-elevator incident. Isn't it funny that you only have to go when you know that it isn’t an option? I'm loads of fun on road trips.
8 Comments:
first, i don't think it's unfortunate that your side profile is more than three inches. at least part of your side profile we generally like to have MUCH more than three inches. (i'm talking about boobs.)
second, that would have freaked me out enough that i would have just taken the stairs and written it off as extra exercise. yipes!
third, i have to go to the bathroom all the time. i have, like, the tiniest bladder on the face of the planet. someday, when i'm pregnant, i'll be moving into the bathroom and just camping there for four or five months. my husband will have to just bring me food and water occasionally to keep me hydrated. i, too, am loads of fun on road trips - clearly we should go on one together:
[at a gas station]
L: "i'm going to the bathroom. do you have to go?"
A: "i thought i did, but now i don't."
[L goes and they get back on the road. five minutes later...]
A: "damn, now i have to go."
L: "that's okay, i already have to go again."
hahahahaha... i think that would be hilarious.
I think my son is actually somehow YOURS. With the peeing thing? He's the same way. That is so funny.
And that would have scared the poo out of me -- being stuck.
Lifts terrify me at the best of times, but being stuck in one? I would turn into a crying and panicking wimp. Seriously.
Glad you didn't pee, though.
I hear ya on the bathroom thing. It never fails, as soon as I am stuck in unmoving bumper to bumper traffic- BAM- my bladder is suddenly full!
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Personally, I like to wait until we are ready to leave the house. We rack our brains to make sure we did not forget anything and in the mist of thinking, I forget that I have to take a quick pee. The urge hits me like a ton of bricks when we are backing out of the garage or 20 feet down the road. I then proceed to turn around as the comfort of your own home to pee is second to none.
See Ang, it could be worse... I could always projectile vomit everywhere.
Oh my goodness, I would be terrified!! Of both being stuck in the elevator and of the prospect of having to a) pee in the elevator or b) hold it until an unspecified time when I was rescued!! Scary stuff for a Saturday night!
OK, I have been stuck in an elevator twice (!!) and both times, the first thing I panicked about was OMG WHAT IF I HAVE TO PEE? Neither time did I actually HAVE to go to the bathroom, but that's apparently my worst fear... being stuck somewhere small, with other people around (both times there were other people in the elevator), and having to pee really, really bad.
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