Stuck in an Elevator

This one is about me! My parents brought my brothers and I to a fun play house one weekend, and I took the elevator upstairs. People were already in the elevator and more piled in after me. The doors closed, and the elevator began whirring, only to slow down before we made it to the next floor. The lights dimmed from a bright florescent to a yellowed color, but I could still see everyone’s faces. There were ten or twelve people within the elevator, but it wasn’t a big one, so it was difficult to rotate left or right or walk.

Someone called 911 pretty much immediately, much to my chagrin. I would have preferred complete silence. Almost immediately, all the sounds from outside echoed inwards. There’s not a lot of soundproofing in there, so I could hear a car beep from the street. I regretted not taking the stairs with my mom and older brother.

I was trapped into a steel container. Some air was blowing in from all directions. That was nice, but I remember not being able to turn or move around too much. The main issue is: I didn’t know I disliked elevators. I thought they were only an inconvenience. I enjoy taking the stairs more. There's something frightening about standing on something without a solid floor. From below the elevator, I knew there wasn't a long drop down, but I was still scared.

I know most people don’t like elevators either. They can feel like they’re about to fall even when they’re well balanced. I wanted to pounce or act, or explode with energy, but I couldn’t. I was ready to bust out and leave, but there was no sane exit! No, the best option was to wait, no matter how jittery or restless I was.

My little brothers both talked to each other for the first couple of minutes before they tired themselves out. Everyone was still shifting around, even though the sensation of being suspended on strings finally freaked me out. It’s easy to forget that weird feeling if you’re not in the elevator for too long. But starting around the thirty minute mark, I was starting to measure how the elevator swayed under my feet, including up or down by a couple of centimeters. It’s not enough to make you queasy. At the same time, it’s not natural. It was only awful and tingly. 

I was getting very scared. I kept asking questions about when the police were going to come, but no one else was responding. I guess they didn’t know. My dad didn't know the answer, so he told me to wait. Even still, someone was nice enough to tell me the time. It seemed that twenty minutes had passed. I started to move around, mostly because I was starting to get cold. I wanted to latch onto someone, but I didn’t think there was anyone who would have been willing for that. I was young at the time, maybe eight or nine, so it wasn’t difficult to move around.

After the thirty minute mark, I sort of hunched into a ball. Apparently my dad didn’t like this very much. He thought I was being ridiculous, and he told me to stand up. I did, but I ended up getting yelled at, and I hunched back down soon afterwards. The elevator was very cold, but I was sort of caught in my own world. After about another forty five minutes of being hunched and sort of cold, I understood what my older brother meant when he talked about claustrophobia. I was starting to feel haunted, which I didn’t like at all. 

The firefighters came after about an hour and ten minutes. They proceeded to argue about whether they should pry the doors open, or if they should move the elevator up a floor. They chose to pry the doors open. It was quick work on their part, but I have no idea how they did it. The door was opened with a slight woosh, and people began climbing out. I was one of the last to exit. It was a relief to be released. I whined to my mom about being stuck in the elevator once I was out; I'm not going to lie. 

I was sort of expecting a picnic, or to be carried down the stairs when we left, but that wasn’t meant to be. My dad offered ice cream, but I declined his offer. I wasn’t in the mood for something quick to cool me down. I wanted to eat a picnic outside, even though it was very hot outside.

The sun beat down on the concrete on the outside of the faculty. I wanted to stand outside for slightly longer, but my parents brought me to the car. My dad started the car, and we all buckled in. I still don’t like cramped spaces. I had to open the window while writing this story. 

I asked my dad what he remembered about being stuck in an elevator a couple of times, and he always said like he felt like it passed by in a flash. I couldn’t ever believe him! It’s a very vivid memory to me. I’d ask my little brothers, but they’re always playing games, so they don’t have time to talk to me. I know it’s not such a big deal, but I still get worried thinking about it today. I never really liked taking elevators beforehand, and I definitely don’t now. He mentioned this whole scene took place a decade ago, and I actually remember the location— It was a Bounce U, but I don’t know if it was the Brooklyn one, the Fort Hamilton one, or if we had to drive to New Jersey to get there. Regardless of where it was, we were treated well before the whole location lost power. It was a very strange day.