I have never been stuck in an elevator. That isn’t a finite statement, as there is still plenty of time for me to experience being trapped in a lift. I have come close a few times when I worked in an old University Library and the original lift groaned and moaned while thinking about whether it would open and was out of order more than not, but somehow I was never incarcerated.
Mr FD once worked in an old building that had one of those old elevators with the wrought iron doors and it had a penchant for stopping about a foot above or below the floor level. The doors would open but the occupants either had to step up or down. Life was an adventure every day!
Two work colleagues were trapped for a couple of hours in a shopping mall elevator at night. They used the phone to call for help, and thought help was coming, but it turns out the guy on the other end changed shift and their situation was not followed up. In the end they were rescued by phoning one of their Dads who rang the emergency line and help was finally summoned.
Daughter2 was trapped for about 45 minutes. Ever resourceful in most situations, she sat on the floor, and took out her knitting. She knitted and chatted to the guy back at the elevator office, who said she was the calmest person in an elevator he had ever witnessed. Knitting while trapped was a first as well.
My problem is that as soon as I know I can’t go to the bathroom if I need to, I instantly feel as though I urgently need to pee. Like when you just think about going on a diet and then become twice as hungry as ever before! I am sure that once aware of not being able to exit an elevator I would need to, well, you know.
Maybe I should carry a pairs of disposable incontinence panties that oldies use. Would I have to wear them all the time, just in case I have need of an elevator and so was ready for all eventualities; or do I carry them in my handbag and don them should the need arise? It would mean asking everyone to turn their backs while I change into my pee panties, but it could be embarrassing if it is mirrored, or worse still a glass elevator. If it was on the outside of the building I could go viral.
Oh, and why do we still call them a pair of pants? They are singular. They are no longer two pants legs tied or buttoned in the middle and have not been so for many decades, so why a pair of pants? A pair of gloves, yes, they are singular and two. Pants are one.
Anyway, back to the elevator. You haven’t solved my urination problem yet. Do I pee in the corner and hope no ones notices the puddle? Worse still, what if it is… um, a number 2? And no ventilation!
No ventilation and everyone else has bad breath and I need to puke?
These questions need resolving people, this could happen to any of us!
In the meantime, I am taking the stairs.