Alive, Awake, Alert... Enthusiastic?

First thing in the morning isn't my most brilliant time of day.

(In fact... I think I mentioned recently that Boyfriend of Amazingness wants to pen a Little Something about Sunny's Morning Ramblings: Precious Thoughts From My Sleepy Girl.)

It's unfortunate, because I've recently become quite taken with having a morning mocha to get me going.

Unfortunate in that, on workdays, I make myself get to my desk before I can have the delightful go-go juice that kickstarts my day.

So that means I shower, get dressed, pack my day bag and drive to work all before I am caffeinated and really "With It."**1

Which can mean that, on occasion, I'll do something stupid because my mental hamster is still catching his last few Zzz's.

Like yesterday morning.

At current, our local parking garage is being prettied up for the winter... Which involves a delightful maze of closed stairwells and exciting adventures in the Parking Garage Elevator.

Yesterday morning, upon stepping into the elevator, I regarded the buttons and thought only briefly about where I needed to go. "Out" was the final decision. So I pushed the lowest button on the panel. It, of course, would take me to the Ground floor - the lowest level in the building. It only made sense.

Except that, beneath the Ground Floor button is the Emergency Alert button.

Which is what I accidentally pushed.

Alarms clanged and the elevator light flashed. I, in a moment of Shining Mental Clarity, said "Aah!" and plastered myself against the back wall of the elevator. And I may have been a little shaken.**2

Which is where the Garage attendant found me when I finally made it to the ground floor.

On the up side... I only needed half a cup of coffee yesterday.

**1 Don't worry. I'm alert, and not prone to running over rodentia or homeless wanderers.

**2 Like a paint can at a home improvement store...

Grand (Mis)Adventures

It Was An Overcast and Drizzly Evening...

...Not so terribly long ago...

...When our amazing heroine Sunny was storming about the vicinity...

(and by storming, I mean that she was stomping around not with anger, but with pride in her totally stompable Mighty Boots of Sunniness)

...and wreaking general havoc on personages therein.

(Which sounds so much more interesting than the photocopying she was actually doing.)

Aware, but blissfully untroubled by the Visitor's Badge flapping against her hip.

(This is an important plot point, ReaderFriends. Remember this.)

She stomped through the Printing Area, making her copies...

(and thinking how awesome it would be if she were a Tyrannasaurus Rex, with itty bitty arms that couldn't reach the copier output tray... so she would have carte blanche just to stomp around and be terrifying.)

...And she stomped through the hallways, delivering paperwork...

(and seriously considering growling at her coworkers with a toothy grin...)

...And then, her rampaging complete, she stomped onto the elevator and got ready to go home.

The doors dinged shut as she hit the button to take her to the next floor up, where her car keys were anxiously waiting her arrival.

The button lit for only a moment before darkening again...

...And the elevator didn't move.

"What madness is this?!" she exclaimed loudly to herself.

(Which you can do in an elevator - you can be alone and loud all at once.)

She hit the button again...

...to no avail.

She glanced at her watch and realized that the Friendly and Helpful Concierge had shut down the elevators for the night and gone home.

"Ha! This will not defeat me!" she exclaimed.

(Remember - she can do that. Elevator magic.)

She reached down for her badge...

...Her badge...

...That was still in her car.

Where she had left it that morning, because she was too lazy to go all the way back to the parking garage and retrieve it when she realized that she forgot to bring it in to the office in the first place.

(In her defense... it's a very long walk. And there are stairs.)

She only had the Visitor's Badge.

Which meant she only had the Visitor's Priviledges.

And those priviledges did not include accessing company floors after hours.

But what's our heroine to do? Her car keys were at her desk... And all the elevators were locked.

Not dismayed for more than a moment...

(for just one moment, there was a little dismay. But it's totally understandable, and totally okay. There wasn't wallowing or anything.)

...she took out her trusty cell phone and called her office neighbor.

"Please, oh please, could you come rescue me?" Sunny pleaded.

"Of course!" chirped the wonderfully generous coworker. "Hold very still. I'll be right along."

So Sunny, being a helpful sort, stayed very still in the elevator.

But the elevator did not stay very still.

(It was totally naughty. It would have been sent to time out, but it probably would have fidgeted there, too.)

Instead, it rocketed Sunny to the eighth floor of the building!

"Hmm..." Sunny thought to herself...

(which she had to do silently, because the elevator was suddenly full of other people who can be very intrusive upon Loud Moments Inside An Elevator)

"This isn't what I wanted to do at all."

But Sunny was brave...

...And she greeted the other passengers with a smile.

The other passengers were confused by Sunny the Elevator Dweller, but didn't say anything mean.

Instead, everyone rode in the elevator together.

Down, down, down to the basement.

Sunny hoped that her rescuer would be there.

But she wasn't.

(Really, who can blame her. Sunny had been traipsing about like a Trapisy Explorer.)

Instead, Sunny was greeted by a Random Person From Another Office In The Building.

Sunny put on her bravest smile and approached him.

"Excuse me, Sir?" she asked hopefully. "Could you please beep me up to my floor?"

The man looked at Sunny...

...And realized that only a very stuck person would be so very desperate.

And so he walked her back onto the elevator, swiped his passcard and pushed the button for her.

(Which she totally could have done herself, but she was appreciative of his effort.)

The button still didn't light up.

The elevator still didn't move.

The man said "I'm sorry..." and walked away.

Sunny smiled and said "Thank you..."

But she also started to feel hopeless.

She was still stuck.

And the overcast evening grew darker...

And the drizzle turned into a heavy mist...

And Sunny's lower lip came dangerously close to adopting a sad tremble.

(The wallowing was eminent.)

Finally, her phone rang!

Hope sparked!

It was her coworker, asking where Sunny was!

"I'm right here!" Sunny said. "I'm still holding still!"

Her coworker didn't believe her, but swooped to the rescue again.

She came downstairs...

...And took Sunny by the hand...

...And walked her back to her cubicle, and to her waiting car keys.

And even gave her a cookie to calm her rattled nerves.

And so everything was okay.

(And the cookie was pretty tasty, too.)

The End

Wait For It...

Public Service Announcement to Fellow Users of Elevators

I understand that elevators are frustrating. And being dependent on them - as you must be, since your schedule is so hectic that taking the time to walk the stairs is absolutely out of the question - must be so demoralizing. Seriously... its as though your can-do-attitude has been stripped from your very bones by the Boxes Of Ultimate Up-And-Down-I-Ness.

However...

You're not going to intimidate them.

Not by pushing the buttons over and over with varying speed and franticness...

Not by glaring at the elevator arrival beacons one-by-one in turn until the elevator arrives...

Not even by running to the door of the elevator as it does finally arrive, and bracing your hands within the doorframe so as to best propel yourself inwards when it finally beckons you forth.**1

No... I can almost guarantee that none of those tactics will coerce the Hurtling Rooms of Doom to work any faster.

But if you're making yourself feel better, by all means please continue - The onlookers find it pretty entertaining, if I do say so myself.

RaYD,

Sunny

**1 No... That, most certainly, is the best way to run chest-first into another harried elevator-rider and then you'll have to (steady yourself for this...) apologize. You know, for being an impatient scumsucker.

Why Elevators Are Germ Boxes of Doom

I've always been a bit of a germophobe.

Some environments trigger this more than others. For instance, being in a doctor's office makes me acutely aware of just which diseases I have NOT contracted, and makes me wonder whether I will be exposed to H1N1 from the oozing child in the next chair... so I end up tucking my nose into my magazine and covertly sending telepathic messages to the little snot machine** to take their leaking orifices over to the lovely little play corner. Being on an airplane makes me think about what jungle viruses the other passengers might be radiating into our shared air... so I end up burrowing into my blanket and breathing through it for the duration of my flight. Being in a vehicle - especially one of which I am not in control - makes me wonder if the driver has the capacity to poison me with germs through the air ducts under the guise of "turning up the heat to reach you all the way back there."

But the worst has to be the elevator.

Doctors' offices have windows that can be left open. Airplanes have doors that can be left open. Vehicles have both. 

Elevators do not.

Doctors' offices, airplanes and vehicles can create a scenario of moving- with the appropriate allocation of open airway and stout breeze.

 Elevators can not.

Sure, the doors open. For exactly 14 seconds (at least on my Friendly Local Elevator). That is NOT enough time for an air-exchange. That's enough time to cool down the air right inside the doorway, and then trap you inside for a 45-second-long ride of germ-tastic doom.

Well, it should be easy enough, right? Just avoid elevators. 

Except...

I am one of only a handful of people who have a key to the Box Of Doom. Which means that, twice a day, I have to push the little button and wait for the disgustingly long descent, and then step inside to turn the key. Which, inevitably takes 18 seconds (two seconds longer than the breath I can hold when I totally forgot to take a deep, holdable breath before the elevator arrived and have to just gasp in what I can before the doors ding open). Most days I can step in, fumble for my keys, grab the right one and be en-route to the keyhole before I have to kick my foot in front of the door to keep it from closing me in (thereby at least feigning to my brain that there is breathable, un-germy air around should the need for it arise). I can then complete my task of turning on the elevator, escaping it and breathing deeply as I walk myself up the well ventilated stairs.

(Mind you, all of this is happening in a two-story building. The elevator is only for clients, of which we have very few right now because the company is in a "state of transition." So all of this work is pointless, and goes unrecognized until the one day I forget to turn on the elevator and someone has to walk up the stairs before a meeting ((heaven forbid)) and is forced to get some exercise, thereby totally winding them and ruining the meeting because they can't think for the breath they can't catch.)

Unfortunately, this was not the case today.

Today, I was just at the kicking-of-the-foot part when I heard a ding. And then a clanging bell. And then, all hell broke loose.

The ding was a call for the elevator. Easy enough. Once the key is engaged, it will rocket off on its upward trajectory, hurtling towards its destination at a staggering eight-inches-per-second-per-second rate of acceleration. (Yep. Tested and true. It really is faster to climb the stairs.) But it will not rocket upwards before the key turns and the connection is completed and I can escape unscathed. 

Most of the time.

Today, it was really on its game, and I got sucked into its trap.

COURSE OF EVENTS:

Sunny: <pushes button>

Elevator: Oh hai! 

              <opens immediately>

Sunny: Meep! Not ready!

            <gasps quickly to avoid imminent germ-cloud>

            <steps into elevator, fumbles keys, accidentally drops them>

            Crap.

            <reaches to pick up keys while awkwardly kicking leg out to stall closing door>

Elevator: Oh! A game! I love games! I'll make loud crashy noise, too.

               <dings as if being called>

Fire Alarm: What fun! A game! I can make noise, too!

                  <clangs and joins in the fun>

Sunny: <startled> Oh!

Elevator: Have you disembarked, HumanFriend?

               <begins closing doors>

Sunny: No! NoNoNoNoNo!

            <frantic kicking of leg>

Elevator: HumanFriend! You're still here! But I'm about to move! I will save you!! You will be safe!!

              <closes doors more quickly>

Fire Alarm: I'll keep you company!

                  <CLANGCLANGCLANGCLANGCLANG>

So... I was terrified. I was locked in a little box which appeared to be making decisions of its own volition. I was moving upwards on a trajectory I hadn't requested, towards the source of a noise which was startling the ever-loving earwax out of me**1, and I was fairly certain I was going to die.

By the time I reached the first floor, I was in Catastrophic Meltdown. I had run out of air in my lungs, so I had pulled my sweater up over my face and was breathing in through that and out through my right sleeve. My belongings - such as they were - were scattered about the floor, having been dropped in the hubbub. I was curled into the far corner of the elevator with my back pressed to the wall and what I'm sure was a look of terror plastered firmly on my face.

Which must have been a fantastic spectacle for the Fire Alarm Guy that greeted me on the first floor.

"Oh!" he said nonchalantly as the doors opened and he peered inside. "I wouldn'ta used the emergency key if I knew you were about."

** I love children. I really, really do. It's the parents who do nothing to stem the flow of viscous fluids that bother me. Really, honey, is it that hard to help him blow his nose? No, don't drug him, just employ a tissue. 

**1 Loud noises in small spaces lead me down a short path to schizophrenia. I see angry faces in my head, my heart palpitates almost to the point of making me feel ill and my breath comes in these little raspy bursts that make me sound like a PugDog with chronic respiratory disease. So... fire alarm in elevator = Sunny the Wide Eyed Terror-Beast.