You would think I would learn but noooooo

December 29th,2007
You would think I would learn. As any of you who read my blog would know, I had a somewhat interesting experience in the elevator at my apartment complex when I first moved into my apartment here in Ukraine. I, and all of my stuff, got stuck in the elevator for about 40 minutes. After that I took the stairs because I had visions of getting trapped without my Ukrainian host family to save me. Recently, the elevator was broken for over 3 weeks and special people were finally brought in to fix it. I still avoided using it on general principal but as the days have gotten shorter I have started using the elevator after dark simply because the landings in my building only have a light bulb on every third landing and you never know who you might meet, or what you might step in in the dark so I generally choose to risk a known danger rather then a unknown one.
This being said, I decided to make a late night run to the store to get the stuff to make crapes and after dodging all of the youths hanging out on a Friday night (this is how pathetic I am, I am cooking alone in my house on a Friday night. I am trying not to think about it, it could always be worse and I could be drinking) I elected to take the elevator, which had been working perfectly since the repair guys came, up to my apartment. I get in, press the button and the elevator doors close and I start moving up. There is a gap when the doors close and you can see the landings as you pass them and say hello to you neighbors, that sort of thing. I always count the landings because I am trying to improve my Ukrainian numbers. I reach seven when the elevator jerks to a stop. I am eye level with the eighth floor landing so I know we have stopped in between floors. I say “we” meaning me and the giant premonition of doom standing beside me. The elevator shudders and I can hear the elevator engine (which is probably a refurbished model-T engine from 1910) straining to lift the elevator. My brain does the lightening calculations:
The engine is still running
but the elevator is not moving
meaning the elevator really is “stuck”
Meaning the cable (which is probably as old as the model T engine) is under a significant amount of stress.
and I am 8 floors up
in an elevator that probably does not have the best safety backups
all this equals = major bummer for me.
I hear a loud clink, much like somebody dropping a giant wrench, the engine stops and the elevator drops 2 feet. I scream like a little girl. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I find myself once again stuck in the elevator. But unlike last time, I am 7 floors up and I have no babycia to come get a burly taxi driver to pry open the doors for me. I think to myself, “hmm, what would Jesus do?”, no wait that won’t help me. Jesus is busy and if I am about to die I don’t want him to hear any of the words I am using right now anyway.
I know,“what would Macgyver do?” I take a catalogue of all of the things I have on me. I have just gone to the store and I bought, flour, milk, vinegar, and fizzy mineral water. I also have my purse with Faulkners Absalom, Absalom, some migraine pills, a maxi pad, and pens. “this is good.” I think, “I have some things to work with, what can I make with what I have”. Macgyver was able to stop a leak in a Soviet nuclear reactor with a chocolate bar surely I can get out of a soviet elevator with what I have. Right?
This is roughly my train of thought. “Okay, I have fizzy water, maybe if I shake it really hard I can create an explosion, ooohh, I also have vinegar doesn’t that fizz and explode with baking soda? Wait, I don’t have baking soda. Will flour work? no stupid, all you need to add then is the milk and you can make a cake. But I have no eggs…that’s not the point. Wait a minuite, I don’t really want an explosion anyway, I am in a little elevator, held up by a cable that has more rust on it then the water coming out of my pipes. And how would I make the explosion go out of the elevator instead of in and ending up as Peace corps puree? Don’t be an idiot Shannon, it’s fizzy water, not TNT, the worst you could do is soak yourself and put your eye out with a flying bottle top. Wait, I have paper and I think I have matches I can send a smoke signel. Faulkner won’t mind and it’s not like I am ever really going to read this book anyway, I have been carrying it around for weeks and I am only on page 17. Hold on, lighting a fire in a small confined space is probably not a good idea. Smoke is not a good warning, people here burn their trash all the time and I would suffocate far before I ever got noticed. Maybe if I wedge the maxi pad between the doors and get it wet it will push the doors open. Who are we kidding, they aren’t really that absorbent and I would rather die of starvation then have to try and explain what I was doing with a maxi pad in an elevator and why it was all wet. Well, I have enough water for a few days and a book to read surly someone will notice I’m missing, Right? Wait, Macgyver would never think that Shannon, but then who are we kidding, you are not Macgyver. Maybe I should leave a note just in case? Mommy!”
Macgyver I am not. So instead of coming up with a brilliant solution I stare stupidly at the elevator doors. I hear something. It’s a meow. The cat from the 8th floor is looking down on me from it’s perch on the 8th floor landing. An idea dawns, the people on the 8th floor always come out to let their cat in when it meows and then I can call out to them. The cat looks at me. It doesn’t want to meow at it’s door because I am far more interesting then going inside. I stare at it, it stares at me. And I think, I am going to have to wait until this cat gets bored. That could take forever since my cat in America can stare at a blank wall for hours and not even blink. “go home honey!”, I say “go home, isn’t kitty hungry?”. I am talking to the cat like it’s Lassie. But Lassie is a dog, Lassie would care, this is a cat, they don’t care about anything but eating and napping in sunbeams. I jump up, waving my arms and trying to scare the cat away so it will ask to be let in at it’s door. All the while saying, “go home honey, go home”.
I hear another noise. I look down and see that, while my attention was fixed above my head on the cat a large group of teenagers had walked up to the 7th floor landing and were watching me wave my arms and shout towards the ceiling. I look at them and blushed deep red from my toenails to my ears.
Being my usual eloquent self I blurt out, “I’m stuck” (in English, which none of the kids speak)
“Are you drunk?” They ask in Ukrainian.
“Hi (no) lift ne pratsue (the lift does not work) I reply.
Understanding dawns and the teenagers separate to either side of the elevator doors and begin to pull. They have obviously done this before. The doors open and I step the two feet down to the 7th floor landing. “Thanks” I say and scurry up the stairs before they can ask who I was talking to all by myself in the elevator. I pass the cat on the 8th floor that is still staring into the elevator and probably stayed there all night. I see lots of stairs in my future.