Grumpy’s Elevator Doesn’t Go to the Top


Since we were into “elevators” in the recently posted “KIJIJI Adventure” I thought I’d bring up a shorty from the bottom of the blog pile. There are some lonely BLOGS down there that need to be shared.

This event occured this past July when we were staying in Centreville, Indiana just across the Ohio River from Lexington KY. We were there for one of Josh’s basketball tournaments.

The Good Wife has often accused Old Grumpy as being the King of Elevator Talk.

You know the “Nice weather today!” kind of babble with no substance. This is particularly true when Grumpy meets someone new. I’d rather call it a feeling out period of “how ya doin’ how are yas.” I’m not likely to discuss the in’s and the outs of the human genome with someone I just met.

When it comes to actual elevators I’m usually as quiet as a church mouse, eyes forward (watching the ascending or descending numbers), and as still as a statue. Don’t talk to me in there because I’ll just snap, “Can’t you see I’m watching the numbers!”

Indeed, because of my claustrophobia I’d just as soon take the stairs no matter how many floors the building has. There are few exceptions to this “Grumpy Rule.”

The proof of this rule is as follows.

There were lots of thunderstorms while we were in Kentucky for basketball this past summer. It was also very hot. Too bad the ice machines on floor #1 and #4 of our hotel weren’t working. I did discover that the one on floor #8 was in perfect working order. I got my ice there the first night but followed the “Grumpy Rule” to the letter.

You see, you don’t drink Bourbon without ice, especially in Kentucky. I made that trek without incident. I took the stairs, of course.

The next morning, however, I had to take the trip in order to get ice for our little cooler. We had a short timeline so I had to bite the bullet, as it were. There was no time to struggle up and down eight flights.

So, Grumpy stepped gingerly into that elevator and pressed Floor 8. His silent prayer included just one request, “Please, Lord, get me up and down without incident!”

OMG – as soon as the elevator started moving, the lights went out; the elevator shook and then stopped. There was no light. It was as black as coal mine. I was living my worst nightmare.

This dude is not GRUMPY! He is too calm and cool and collected! And, he still has his clothes on.

I was stuck in the dark in a confined space.

CLASSIC CLAUSTERPHOBIA SYNDROME TO THE MAX

Did I scream? Well I guess.

“HHHHEEEEEELLLLLPPPPP ME!” I hollered. My voice had the pitch of a bellowing banshee – but much much louder.

I tried to pull myself together. But I had thoughts of lightning striking a transformer and the hydro being down for hours. I remembered the outside temperature was 100 degrees F. The air conditioner was off. I could stuck be in this spot for hours. This could become the sweat box from hell.

I felt around with my hands and started pressing every button I could find. As if the walls were braille, I moved my fingers looking for that emergency phone box.

All the while I hollered, “HHHHEEEEEELLLLLPPPPP ME!”

I dropped to my knees thinking that any cool air was nestled there. I was fully prepared to strip off my clothes and lay on my back.

I could see the headlines, “CANADIAN SENIOR FOUND NAKED IN KENTUCKY ELEVATOR: POLICE INVESTIGATING.”

But, first I screamed long and loud, “HHHHEEEEEELLLLLPPPPP ME, PPPPLLLLEEEEAAASSSSEEEE!”

I heard a voice from the other side of the doors, a voice with a Spanish accent say, “Sir, I tink you stuck in der!”

One of the maids was right there inches from me through the inoperable doors. All that separated me from my rescuer was an electrical current. Oh, the humanity of it all.

Suddenly, the lights flashed on and off several times and the elevator jolted and the door opened. I had moved up exactly one floor –maybe 12 feet.

“Welcome to Floor #2,” the maid smiled. “You look a little pale, meester. You wan me to take yor arm or somthin?”

Without responding, I turned and I literally ran up the eight floors to get my ice. No matter, my heart was already pounding like a jackhammer fully preparing me for this flight –  fight response. Then another headline dawned on me. “MAN WITH ICE BUCKET FOUND IN STAIRWELL DEAD FROM CARDIAC ARREST: POLICE INVESTIGATING.”

I slowed down to a crawl and took those final flights at turtle speed.

In the end, I guess there was a power failure. Heck, it almost led to heart failure for me.

But, on the bright side, all of my trips up those eight flights of stairs will probably get me into incredible shape. Maybe I’ll add stair climbing to my BOOT CAMP regimen.

NOT!

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