Friday, January 12, 2007

Archived: Get me outta here, Otis!

Original Post Date: November 15, 2006

So I got stuck in an elevator today. In the parking garage. By myself. Without my cell phone. I’d like to tell you that I did not panic, but I can’t. I pushed the call button, and I girl came on the intercom (she didn’t give me her name, but we’ll call her Bambi) and said “University information, can I help you?” Information? I don’t need the number to Pizza Hut, I need OUT! Bambi put me on hold, then came back and said she had called Otis to get me out. I pictured a smelly guy in droopy drawers with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth opening the ceiling panel and shouting down “Hey thar! Just grab this rope and shimmy on outta there!” Then I realized that Otis is the name of the elevator company. Whew. Then Bambi made like she was ending the call. “Hold on! Don’t just LEAVE me in here!” Bambi assured me that she would stay on the line, much like a 911 operator remaining with someone performing CPR on their grandmother. Liar.
I stood there for about 5 minutes, trying to figure out if I would have a better chance of living when the elevator plummeted to the ground if I was sitting or standing, when the elevator car started to move. Since I got stuck between floors, I had no idea where I was or where I was going. I called to Bambi, but she was gone. I pushed the button—nothing. Are you kidding me? Deserted in my hour of need! All of a sudden the doors opened and I was free, but a girl was trying to get on the elevator. I grabbed her by the shoulders. “Don’t get on—it’s a trap! I’ve been stuck in there!” I tried one last time to notify Bambi that I was released, but she must have been too busy saving people from dialing the wrong number. Otis never made an appearance.

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