Elevators

The other night I got stuck in an elevator.
Why was I in the elevator when I was only going down 4 floors? Should have taken the stairs.
Stuck for half an hour. Along with KC, Arthur, Julie, Richard, Jan, Lesslie-Ann, some lady from the UK, and Johnny, the 125 pound Great Perenese dog--the hugest dog I've ever met.
We glided to a stop a foot and a half below the second floor.
Pushed that little telephone button. Figured we would get put through to the elevator technician who should have lived on the second floor. Instead we get this call centre who knows where. Toronto probably. Hope the elevator didn't get charged the long distance.
Tried my best MacGyver resourcefulness. Couldn't unstuck. I honestly don't think MacGyver would have been able to bust out of that elevator. It was shut solid. There wasn't even that panel on the ceiling which is always so easy to punch out. No secret lever anywhere.
Annoying how impossible it was to get out of that thing. Seems to be symptomatic of Western society, can't fix anything yourself, can't trust anyone with potentially useful things.
We were in there for a long time. Got so stuffy. The four halogen lights in the impenetrable ceiling didn't help things.
In the meantime Richard told us a story of how he got hit by a 3/4 tonne pickup and walked away with only a concussion.
In the end we tricked the elevator into letting us out. Afterwards we ate dessert and talked theology.