These are the elevators in the garage of the building where I work. They service three garage floors. They can be impossibly slow sometimes, like today. Though, I did not mind as it gave me time to photograph them.
The 11 story building where I work is serviced by 2 elevator banks with 6 elevators in each bank. My last bastion of superstition and bizzare behavior has to do with these elevators. I have gone through periods where I believed that the elevator knew I was there before I pressed the button because the lobby attendant would call it for me with his magical hidden elevator levers if he was happy with me that day. If this seems confusing, it is. It was a split second thought, truly, but one that persisted for years until someone told me there were smart elevators.
I also get a bit judge-y in the elevator bank. Maybe more like whatever you would call someone who believes in trial by drowning. Superstitious with an edge of impersonating a fire and brimstone deity. Delusional. If someone seems to be racing me to the bank and then the elevator that comes is closer to me than to the huffy puffy fellow then I take that as vindication that I am right and they are being punished by the universe, through the elevator, for their lack of decorum and general unpleasant behavior in an elevator bank.
I have a fine line for tolerable behavior in an elevator bank. You must be calm and not rushed, impassive and definitely not overly friendly. If you are overly friendly, I take great offense and the minute I must share the elevator with you I almost hold my breath so as to try to suggest with my very body the level of calm distance that is the only appropriate demeanor in such close quarters.
Elevators bring something out in me, something irrational and positively medieval. When I lived in Paris, I often took a tiny one person closet type elevator to my room. Now if the elevator is so small that only only two people fit standing face to face, like this one, then in that case, the etiquette is very different. To be distant and aloof would be weird and annoying. You must instead pretend you have fainted around the middle of your trip. The elevator is so small that you can’t actually fall. Your companion will be surprised and hopefully they will laugh. Only do this with someone you are certain will appreciate that kind of thing.
4 replies on “Double Elevators”
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I hate elevators, at any time, whether large or small. I feel completely claustrophobiic in one and can’t wait to get out. Love your final paragraph – I’d like to be a fly on the wall to witness the fainting act! 🙂
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Ha ha ha! My little brother mostly was the victim of the fainting act!
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Typical little brother, then! 🙂
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