Just give me a minute, would ya?

A few minutes ago I was getting out of my car. Slinging my purple corduroy bag over my shoulder. Grabbing my purse. Thinking to myself, "It's a good thing I'm going to the coffeeshop to write this damn paper. It's a good thing I'm not at home trying to write this paper. If I was at home I'd probably be washing the dishes, or sweeping the floor, or organizing the piles of paper on my desk. Or anything but. Anything but writing my paper. And I need to be writing that paper. So it's a good thing I'm going to the coffeeshop to do that. Where there will be no distractions. Where I'll have no excuse. Where I'll have to JUST DO IT." I don't know why I thought that. Since when are there no distractions at B&B? But my illusion didn't even last that long. I was but a few steps from my car when I saw this sign. And needed to take a picture of it. "What a great Picture of the Day," I said to myself, "I'd better hurry across the street to the coffee shop and write about that." And that's what I'm doing. Sitting here with a cup of Columbian decaf (since I already had plenty of coffee at Darby's cafe this morning) NOT WRITING MY PAPER.

Anyway.

I can't tell you how glad this sign made me. How reassured.

I have been scared of elevators for a long time. Since I was probably seven or eight, and was watching TV at a friend's house. There was a little made for TV movie in which some kids got stuck in an elevator. One of the kids pushed the alarm button. Which was loud. And another kid started to scream. Which was also loud. The whole thing was very loud. There was this incessant RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRINGING of the alarm, and this incessant SSSSSSSSSSCREACHING of the kid. It scared me. I don't think I was particularly scared of being stuck in an elevator, in and of itself. I was mostly scared of the noise that apparently ensues when one is stuck in an elevator. So I removed the possibility of elevator stuckage from my life. By not going in elevators. Ever. I didn't want other people to go in them either. Let me tell you, I was worried about more eardrums than just my own. I remember once when I opted for the stairs while my family took the elevator. I cried and grabbed hold of my sister, saving her. And drug her down the stairs with me, her little toddler self. Over time I worked myself through that fear. My aunt used to manage an apartment building and when I was ten or eleven I spent some time thinking about riding the elevator, then looking at the elevator, then actually doing it. Systematic desensitization. It was very scary at first. I could barely breathe. But I didn't get stuck once. Every single time the elevator made it to its destination. And the doors opened. And I got out. And I could breathe again. Over the years I pretty much became okay with elevator riding. AND THEN, about a year ago, I got stuck in an elevator. At the YMCA. A tiny, little elevator. And I was stuck in it with about 10 other hot, sweaty, steamy people. It made a bad noise. And then it stopped. My heart started to race. Someone pushed the alarm button. THAT NOISE BEGAN. And I was terrified. I couldn't breathe. Really. Because there was no air. I was certain that all of us were going to breathe up all the air in that little elevator and I would suffocate to death. In a matter of minutes. It felt like there was no air. AND THAT ALARM JUST KEPT RINGING. It's the kind of alarm that only rings as long as someone keeps his or her finger on the alarm button. But someone did. I wanted to scream at him to TAKE HIS FINGER OFF THE BUTTON. But I didn't. Someone else pushed the call button, and it rang and rang and rang and rang... and finally we were connected to a help person in another city. Who wasn't very helpful. Who said, "would you like me to let your building know you're stuck in the elevator?" Um, let us think about that... YES! Finally, after what seemed like forever, we were rescued. The elevator was stuck between two floors. But they got the door open. And brought a ladder to the bottom floor. And we had to slide through the opening and climb down the ladder. To safety.

But that did me in. I can't do elevators anymore.

So, all that said (and boy am I glad I got all this said before even thinking about writing my paper), I was really glad to see this sign on the side of a building today. It's so reassuring to know that when an elevator alarm rings, there are signs alerting others to take action. Because I like the idea of people being rescued from elevators.