Vanilla and Fries.

Getting stuck in an elevator was supposed to be adventure. Well, according to all those movies and books I had read, it was supposed to be an adventure. You were supposed to fall in love with someone or make a new friend. It was all supposed to be fun and mind-opening. Unfortunately, that was not the case with me.

The date was August 24, 2014. It was my wedding day and all I had to do was stay in my hotel room while my family ran all the important errands. Because I was a stubborn individual who, on that day, had a strong craving of fries dipped in vanilla ice cream – a combination that my family told me was more disgusting than listening to modern day rap music – I left my room and decided to take the elevator to the bottom last floor. The ding sound of the opening doors made my stomach groan in anticipation. I needed my meal.

Stepping inside, I contemplated calling my sister and asking her to buy the ice cream and fries for me, while the elevator doors slowly shut before my eyes.

"No," I whispered. " No, no I change my mind." My fingers pressed the multiple button on the elevator wall, hoping one will stop the ride and take me back to my floor. I did not know how to operate an elevator because I was more of a stairs person and it was definitely paying off.

It was when my head was buried in the palm of my hands that the elevator shook and went quiet. No movement. No lights shining around the circular buttons.

"You have got to be kidding me!" I laughed, running my hands through my hair. I laughed for a few more minutes, ignoring the fact that I probably looked insane at this point. 

My wedding was in two hours. I could not wait two hours to eat ice cream and fries. My heart did a flip of hope when I remembered that I had my phone with me. I erupted in another a fit of laughter when I realized that I had the wrong phone with me. I had Lisa's phone. Her phone used face recognition to unlock and so there was no hope for me.

"Emergency call!" I exclaimed, before my pea-sized brain could give up. The first number to pop up was our mother's which went straight to voicemail. The second number was my sister's husband which also went straight to voicemail. The last number, my last hope, was my... fiance's. My mind began to wonder why my own fiance's number was on her emergency dial list when my name was not even there. I shrugged the thought off, deciding that Lisa was an absentminded roach.

"Lisa?" My fiance – Phil – spoke into the speaker after the first buzz. He did not even reply my calls with such lightening speed. But then again, it count be because of the wedding. 

"Phil, it's me, Candice," I said. "I'm stuck in an elevator and I don't know what to do."

"Hold on Lisa, let me go outside," Phil spoke in a low voice. "I think my network is pretty bad."

"No, you dunderhead, it's Candice!" I replied. 

"Lisa, your cutting off," Phil continued to speak. "Just give me a minute."

I sucked in my lips in frustration. This was going to be a long day.

"You're good to go now." Phil's voice was a lot louder now and it sounded like he was in the bathroom.

"It's Candice!" I slowly shouted into the speaker. "I am stuck in an elevator and I do not know what to do!"

"Stuck? What do you mean you're stuck? Be more specific."

I began to laugh again, frustration dripping off my tone.

"How specific do you want me to be?"

"Which part exactly are you stuck on? Talk me to L."

L? Who was L? Phil never called me L, unless it was his new shortcut name for calling me Love.

"I am stuck in an elevator, Phil, and I do not know what to do. It's frustrating because our wedding is in two hours and I still haven't shaved my left leg and I'm wearing yesterday's bra!" Tears were streaming down my face as I was speaking. Phil knew that the smallest things made me feel frustrated.

"I get it, okay," came back the rough reply. "You're stuck and you don't know what to do. Just tell me what happened and quite with the metaphors."

You should know by now that my next move was to laugh. Laughter was my way of dealing with life constantly throwing curve balls in my way. 

"I don't know what you want me to say at this point," I sighed. "Elevator, Phil, elevator. The device I do not like using. The thing that goes ding!"

"L, what was that?" Phil responded.

"Phil, I'm stuck!" I cried with more warm tears starting to blur my vision.

Phil sighed. "Okay, just calm down. We'll get through this together."

"Just tell me what to do or call someone!" I screamed, putting aside the weakness I was feeling.

"Does this mean Candice knows?" Phil inquired.

"Huh?"

"Duh, that's obvious," he laughed. "I mean, does the whole family know?"

"No," I said. " Their phones are off."

"Um...then-then you have to convince Candice to keep quiet for a while."

Not even a volcano could compare to the heat building up in my body. It was anger fuelled with anger with a hint of anger.

Here is what I was dealing with so far:

Phil continued to think he was speaking with Lisa, it was as if every time I mentioned the word elevator the network cut me off, and to top it all of, I needed a bathroom break.

"What are you taking about?" 

"Bad idea, right?" I could hear him facepalm himself on the other end. "Look, we made out once. One time, Lisa. Candice has to forgive me. She has to understand that it was a mistake and I was in a bad place. We were in a bad place and her laughing was not helping the situation. Honestly, every time she laughs when she is worried, it scares the man out of me. But that is not the point, we will deal with this together. I still love you Lisa, but I can't do this to Candice. I don't want her to be lonely."

Rage does not begin to describe it. 

Anger does not even come close.

Livid was a softer term for what I was feeling at this point. 

My fiance, who had also been my best friend for twenty years, had cheated on my with my sister. I laughed again and again until I felt like I had run out of breathe. I screamed. I cried. I hit the walls surrounding me. I broke my sister's phone. I pulled my hair. I bit my lip. And then I laughed again.

The elevator shook once more and continued to descend to the last floor. My disfigured reflection on the door's of the elevator resembled a raccoon on drugs. 

Ding!

The doors slid open to reveal my mother and sister with several bags hanging from their arms on the other end.

Maybe if I had not dropped my fry into my vanilla ice cream as child and eaten it, none of this would have happened. Maybe if I had gotten over my excitement for my wedding last night and eaten my diner, I would not have felt hungry and craved for Vanilla and fries.

Maybe, just maybe, if I had taken a picture of the beautiful sunset before my mother and sister went out, I would have noticed that I had the wrong phone and asked Lisa for my phone.

And maybe if was normal, I would not have attacked my sister infront of a crowd of people and given her a black eye.

Maybe.

A/N

Hope this was somewhat enjoyable:))