56 Days: Elevator

Terror from the past. An old fear reborn. This is what I faced at work today.

Because today, one of the elevators in our building began to suddenly and inexplicably drop several floors. Several times. At random intervals.

Eric and Nicole were in the elevator heading up to the first floor. They were chattering in Russian (since she's basically his tutor) when the cab jerked a few times and then dropped to the parking garage. They caught themselves on the handrails, shaken, then managed to get the doors open and hurried to tell our boss about the problem.

The elevator was used a few more times, to check the situation. Everything was as it should be.

Charlie got in the elevator an hour or so later and headed up. The new kid, Jonathon, was asking him a question when the elevator choked again and plummeted three floors. When it finally stopped at the lowest level, they both climbed out and took the stairs, trying to warn that the elevator was broken again.

When I heard their stories, I was intrigued for several reasons. Obviously, it's a scary situation to anyone. But it was particularly eerie to me because I wrote a blog post over a year ago where I made up a story about an elevator collapsing in that building. The very same elevator, in fact. (Blog Post: Story)

But my job required that I take that elevator downstairs, to get some new florescent lights for one of the bathrooms. My partner came with me to the elevator, which hadn't had problems for another long while. I tried to walk on nonchalantly like the two supervisors with me, but my body froze just before the doors. I leaned forward a few times, looking through the crack at the shaft below me, and my eyes grew wide with fear. "Uh, I'll just - uh..." I said, gulping. "I'll just take the stairs."

My supervisors would have none of that. They tugged me onto the elevator and I watched the doors slide shut ominously.

Perhaps this would be a good time to interject a message from the past. When I was little, I was petrified of elevators. I never, ever took the elevator. I always ran up the four or five floors of stairs instead. Even as I grew older, my fear was pronounced. I learned to cope with it, trying to be socially appropriate and not start panting when the elevator started to move. And with my job I learned to deal with it, because I have to take big machines up and down all the time, and there's no way to do that without an elevator. I had, in fact, recently believed myself cured of my elevator phobia.

Oh, I was wrong. Today brought it all back.

The elevator did not fall while I was inside it, even though one of my oh-so-funny coworkers jumped while we were moving, shaking the car and nearly snapping the cable. But my heart was racing, blood was pounding in my head, and I suddenly remembered that these technological demons are always waiting, watching for the right opportunity to plunge me to my death. And I will be buried in a metal casket, weight limit 3000 lbs.

Today's Movie: "The Birds" and Disney's "Haunted Mansion"