I got in the elevator at work today and the door closed. I stood there for a good minute or two waiting to get off on the next floor up and the doors never opened – it dawned on me that perhaps I was locked in.
Panic ensued. I could see light through the crevice in the middle of the closed elevator door but wasn’t sure what to do. A simple trip to the restroom upstairs had now turned into a caper. An adventure. A pickle.
Great.
I stood there for a few more seconds and looked up at the ceiling for a trap door. I looked at the buttons on the elevator panel, focusing long and hard at the red one that people often dread the thought of ever having to use. “Hm.. do I wait a few minutes more or push this thing?” I thought to myself.
As I was studying the red panic button, I came to realize that none of the floor numbers were lit up and that perhaps it would help if I pressed one of them to tell the elevator it needed to go somewhere. An instant sigh of relief washed over me. I pressed the “2” button and sure as shit, up it went and the door opened just seconds later.
Gee, crazy how those elevator things work, huh?