Trapped between 10 and 11...

After work one day, I was trapped in an elevator...by myself. What do you do when you're stuck in an elevator? I'll tell you.


Many things race through your head. Is there a chance I could survive an 11 floor drop like a cat can do? Didn't I see a Dateline NBC episode that taught us how to survive a fall? Such thoughts prove meaningless. I don't want to die in an elevator. That's just gross. Becoming a headline in the NY Post cannot happen to me but I can see the headline now...

MAD AVE LADY PLUMMETS 11 STORIES TO DEATH

               CARRYING RED ROSES AND CHILDREN'S BOOKS

Greeeaaat...

First thing's first. CALL button or ALARM? CALL. Doesn't work. If I press the ALARM button, it means this is an emergency. This is NOT an emergency. If it is, I am dead. Call my co-worker, ask her to call the front desk. It's getting hot in here and this elevator suddenly feels like its walls are closing in on me. Breathe.

Text my mom. If anything happens, 'I love you so much.' Writing my will and last testament in my head.

I'm in here with a vase of flowers from my husband for our anniversary. Will I have to leave them behind? I'm pretty sure they're wilting. What a waste. If this elevator falls and I survive, I'm pretty sure I'm losing at least one eye when that vase shatters into a million pieces.

I also have an overloaded purse (typical), and a giant bag filled with picture books. Perfect. A distraction. Hm, it's The Little House, the 70th anniversary edition of one of my favorite books growing up... Awesome.


Members of The Children's Book Council and publishing folk
at The Today Show in Rockefellar Center earlier in the week.


Voice booms in: "Hey, elevator repair guy..coming...he'll be here soon. Why didn't you press the emergency button?"

"er, I...when do you think he'll be here?" gulp. The elevators next to me going up and down are shaking mine as it hangs in between the 10th and 11th floor. I can hear people on one or both floors merrily leaving for the day and getting on these capable elevators. I'm thinking, 'really, you have it made. I might die in here today and you're talking about getting drinks tomorrow after work.' whatever...

"He'll be here soon, stuck in traffic." Radio silence.




Ann Curry tells fellow CBCer, "I read in a tweet recently, '
Readers become leaders.'

  Alone again.

I wonder if life became too good. I am happy here on the east. My grandparents are awesome. I live close to some of the most important people in my life. Sure, my job is what it is, but I am back in publishing...God must think it's time...

Stop. Pray.

Ooooh! Picture book story time. I crack open the new classic for the first time and begin reading. The house is happy. The house is in the country. The house is developed around. In the middle of  a city. There are a lot of parallels here. I'm from AZ--kind of like the country--moved to big city...Maybe I'm House. Maybe this is a sign? Impossible. I love the city AND the country. Still radio silence. Pray again. Read on. House's family moves her back to the country. Yay for House! I love this book. I'll be fine. See, picture books keep life in perspective. I swear.




A picnic at Greenwich Point with Grandpa and my uncle
and this little guy.

  Hm. Okay. Try to call my grandparents to alert them to my...tardiness...Fanny willl worry. No reception. Hm, getting through to the co-worker was a miracle. Thank you, Lord!

"Miss, the elevator repair man..is here..he's going to let you out. Jump out as fast as you can and take the stairs. Do not get onto another elevator."

"What? When?" Breathing faster. Walls closing in. Do I take the roses? What if I do and the elevator jolts and cuts my arm off? Well, that's not worth it. But I can't leave them here, they were probably expensive and we don't have much money so it was an especially valuable gift...decision made. I'll risk it. I'll sling these bags over my shoulders and hug these roses and fly through these doors. I'm at the ready.

Radio silence.

A jolt. The elevator is moving. I'm watching the numbers go UP! Up?! Noo, my chances of survival...slimmer...20. The top floor. I feel like it's an eternity but it's probably been 30 seconds. The door opens. I leap with all my might. Roses slosh all about, ruining the painstaking time it took someone to sort them so beautifully. I'm ALIVE!!!

A woman comes out of the dental office on the 20th floor and is about to step onto my elevator I just escaped from. I grab her arm, exasperated. Don't...go...in...there...I explain to her why. She hardly seems concerned. 'Sure, you try being trapped in an elevator for an hour by yourself.'

I'm taking the stairs, very happily, clutching my books, my purse, and my flowers all the way down.



Tubbers ruling the garden.

 When I get to the train, catch the 7:00. Call my grandparents. Fanny answers. "Lucy, I was worried about you." I explain the situation to her. She says, "Well, Tubbers must've known because around 5:30 he started getting agitated and pacing around." I never get home until 6:30 if I take the 5:30 which is typically what I do. Did Tubbers sense something was wrong? He seemed relieved when I walked through the gate. I saw him watching me expectantly from the warmth of my grandparents' home. He was particularly loving as we all sat together, shared a glass of wine over dinner as I retold the story.

I don't take the elevator at work anymore, haven't since. To be honest, I think I'm fine with it. It's really not that big of a deal especially after learning about all the safety mechanisms elevators have, but it is incentive to get in better shape anyway...