After what felt like a hellacious week of worrying and breaking my silence – and the frustration of having my second opinion being pushed back, I decided to sleep in and wake up to treat myself with a cup of coffee.
After a pleasant walk in ninety degree weather, I make my way to start my day, suddenly it’s stalled. No literally, it stalled. I’m stuck in an elevator and I don’t have my phone on me. As I realized my situation could be quite uncomfortable in this tiny, non-air conditioned space, I immediately grow thankful that the choice of coffee in my hand is iced. After discovering that the emergency elevator phone was not working, I started to ring the elevator emergency bell. The very bell that is often ignored by people such as myself, usually, because a bunch a of people crowd into this piece of crap where there’s a three person weight limit.
But there are no groups of people, it’s just me.
I ring the emergency bell a few more times…minutes on end.
I lean into the button to rest my right shoulder, allowing the bell to ring for, what felt like, a good two minutes straight.
I’m starting to become drenched with sweat. I’ve got to get out of here.
Remembering what my step dad taught me on the punching bag…
Never throw a punch or kick without throwing your whole body weight into it.
Knowing how my body distributed it’s strengths through my old school years of gymnastics, my right leg was always more flexible, but my left leg was much stronger. I hike up my left leg and kick, once.
Nothing…and now I’m exhausted.
…What about my right leg?
I’m running low on energy. Anything is worth a shot at this point.
I hike up my right leg higher than my left and…BAM!
Whoa, that was loud. Let’s try this again.
BAM!!! Even louder than the emergency bell! And a couple of screws just fell from the top of the door.
Hello? Is someone stuck in there?
Finally, a voice on the other end.
“Yes, it’s just me!”
She acknowledges my voice and calls for help. The supers come armed with crowbars and work until they’ve given up.
Call the elevator company. It’s an emergency!
I’m hanging out, it’s had to have been about thirty minutes before the elevator guys arrive. They work every angle they can possibly use. Then suddenly…
The door is busted. Call the fire department!
I smile at the beautiful accomplishment. All my life I never dared testing my true, brutal strength on anybody or anything other than my bag…and I managed to bust up a door that is supposed to accommodate four hundred pounds.
Thirty seconds was the time it took for the NYC fire department to rescue me upon their immediate arrival.
I got back home and for the first time, in weeks, I started laughing. The same tactic that got me rescued was the same tactic that got me trapped to where real-life heroes had to rescue me. All in all, this was a pretty great story and a way to start my morning.
Sure, I will have to walk seven flights of stairs now, but every time I see this sign, I know it’s because there’s a wait for the arrival of a new elevator door.