The smell of body odor is just so refreshing at 8:40 a.m. Monday morning, well actually 7:45 a.m. because you have to leave extra early to wait for the elevators to come. Do people forget that they crowd into the Anderson elevators every morning? Can they not take two seconds out of their day and simply apply some Speed Stick?
My nose is practically attached to the armpit of the man in front of me. We were so close that there could have been a marriage ceremony right there on the 4th floor, but he smells. Not to mention the briefcase digging into my right thigh so the word ‘Samson’ is now tattooed above my knee.
I thought that there was a capacity limit posted in the elevator to prevent over-crowding, but that works as well as an irate postal worker without a gun. Of course, the capacity posting is inside the elevator. So after the 42 people enter the 40-person capacity elevator they are able to see the sign WARNING: A capacity of over 40 people may result in the elevator wires snapping, causing the car to plummet 500 feet to the cement basement. Even after noticing it, everyone just stares at the sign and smiles while I start counting different armpit smells to find out how many people are actually inside the heat box on wires.
For some reason, I always end up in the far back corner like a child being punished. Making my way through the crowd to get off at my floor makes my mouth dry. “Excuse me. Let me out before the door closes. Could you please move? GET OUT OF MY WAY I HAVE TO GET OUT!” Nobody pays attention, as if I was riding the elevator at the “School for the Deaf” or something.
What exactly is the emergency stop button for? I know that when I get into an elevator with 50 other people, I really do not want to stop for an emergency, but what if there was an emergency? “OH MY GOD! THIS MAN IS BLEEDING! PLEASE DON’T LET THE ELEVATOR GO DOWN TO THE BOTTOM FOR HELP, LET’S HIT THE EMERGENGY STOP BUTTON AND STAY HERE ON THE 34th FLOOR BECAUSE THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!”
The annoying bell always helps too. I know when I hear that high-pitched screaming horn, I can react so much better in an emergency situation.
Why doesn’t anyone ever speak in elevators. They act like cavemen before the English language became popular. Or when people do speak, it is in fragmented pieces of language that only frequent elevator riders are able to translate.
NOTE: For anyone who has class in Anderson, I hope you don’t know what I look like because no one will ever want to ride the elevator with me again.
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