Yet another “adventure”.

Not one that we had planned either.

I blame myself.  

Just yesterday morning,  as I was headed out and had decided to ride the elevator down (had some kitchen waste and recycling,  it gets tricky negotiating the stairs with no hands free), I calmly thought to myself how there will no doubt be times when we’ll miss Vienna,  but “I’m sure as hell not gonna miss this elevator”.   I think I might have put an additional bad word in there, but you can use your imagination.    I didn’t say it out loud either, it was my inside voice.  

Honest!

Anyway,  here’s the routine.   At the end of each day,  around “quitting time”, I expect a phone call from Travelling Companion.   The hope is that it comes some time around six.  Maybe seven.  On certain days of the month it might be later,  but then I’ve usually had some forewarning.  The “second work day” is usually a day when there may be some working late involved.   For anyone not familiar with the routine of a “month end”,  the second work day is the day after the sales have all come in,  and when it’s time to try and figure out what kind of gibberish all the locations are reporting.    I won’t get into the financial workings of the Company that Cannot be Named,  but let’s just say that T.C. deals with seven different currencies on ten different ledgers.  Or maybe it’s eleven?  Seems to me there was another one created not so long ago,  but it doesn’t really matter. 

So you get that?

 

The timing is such that (well, the traffic is such that) as long as I have everything ready to go,  I can make dinner in the time that it takes her to drive home.  This is the only up side to the commute.  Trust me.  

However,  if there’s a second phone call?    That’s rarely a good thing.  It’s taken a while,  but she knows that calling me if a street is blocked and she can’t get home isn’t going to help.   I can’t tell what’s going on (much) from our living room window,  and I’m certainly not going to run down and get behind the wheel.   I’m cooking dinner here.  And where am I supposed to take the car exactly?   I’m not making this stuff up either.   She’s subsequently learned not to panic, and knows that she’ll make it home, eventually.

I have to also say that,  even though I’ve never been wearing a heart monitor when that second call comes in,  I’m reasonably certain that my heart rate increases ever so slightly.

I’m really getting off on those italics today,  aren’t I?   I’ll try not to overdo it.

 

So you’ve probably guessed it by now, if not by the end of the first paragraph.  T.C. got stuck in the elevator!  Yup. Somewhere between the fifth and sixth floors.   There’s a “call”  button in there,  and by the time I made it out our door and down to where I figured she was (two floors down,  sort of) she had already been talking to someone at “Cheaply made crappy elevator central”.   Well, that’s what I would call it,  I’m sure they have some other name. 

You have to understand too that, the elevator (OK, “lift” if you prefer)  has been working quite well for quite a while now.  Just the same,  each and every time we get in the elevator together, we make sure we give each other a kiss,  the thinking being that it could very well be our last.  I avoided the use of italics there.

So I just stuck around in the stairwell for moral support.   By the way,  this building was built in 1908,  and has a spiral staircase,  into which an elevator was installed when they built the rooftop apartments,  one of which we are presently occupying. 

The folks at the “Cheaply made crappy elevator central”  said they’d have someone there in 20 minutes.   There was a story not long after we moved in from one of the tenants directly below us,  that they had been stuck in the elevator for over an hour not long after it was first installed,  so I figured 20 minutes didn’t sound too bad.   The only thing is, when you’re stuck in a elevator by yourself,  trying not to panic,  thinking this could be it, 20 minutes can start to become a long time.  Thankfully,  Elevator Dude showed up after about 10. 

*phew*

T.C. in fact DID NOT PANIC,  but she did later admit that she was getting close.   Her biggest concern was that the damned thing was going to plummet down the shaft.  I kept reassuring her that there were certain safeguards in place that would not allow that to happen.   There have been people killed in elevators that have plummeted,  but that was a long time ago.  We won’t bring up the Twin Towers,  that’s a different ball of wax.

 

The last thing on my mind when I zipped out the door was taking my camera,  but I went down a few minutes later to snap off a couple.  Couldn’t resist.

 

The red handle there is significant.  It looked to me as though it was hooked up to some sort of clutch mechanism (kind of like the hand brakes on a bicycle)  and by pulling down on it,  and there was a whole bunch of resistance,  Elevator Dude and I were able to push the car up a bit so that it was closer to being on the same level as the landing.  Just the same, Travelling Companion had to step up about a foot to come out.

No pictures of her emerging.  Sorry.  That wouldn’t have been prudent.  

“Just a minute, honey!”   Um, no.

Nor did I entertain any notions of a re-enactment.  Are you kidding?

 

 

He had a hex key that he used in the upper left hand corner of the door frame to get it open.   Hey,  I don’t have these tools right here,  but never hurts to know these little things.

 

The stupid thing kept throwing a certain code,  which he wasn’t able to figure out.  Isn’t it great that freakin’ everything is digital??

 

 

My best guess here is that he’s doing some sort of “Elevator Mind Meld”. 

I’m open to other suggestions.

 

I think I see his problem though.   The “brains”  is over here on the right.  Silly bugger.

 

I have to stop seeing the humour in everything.  Seriously.  Could have been a long night. 

The lesson to be learned?   Be sure and go and visit the loo BEFORE leaving the office.  And yes,  that’s exactly what T.C. had done. 

Another *phew*

I’ve been riding that elevator before when I’ve suddenly had to go *really bad*,  so I’m sure I’d be in serious trouble if it just decided to quit.  Watch the coffee intake.

 

 

*All grammar mistakes are intentional.

 

Let’s hope that sucker is working today.  I’m hoping this too will be a “once in a lifetime.”  It won’t hurt my feelings one bit.

 

Enjoy your day.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

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