There was a sign by out elevator this morning that read,
“Be Careful, someone got stuck in this elevator tonight (Thursday).”
[It sounds like the “Careful, Falling Rocks” road sign. If you’re not in an open convertible and happen to have the hardtop in your trunk, what exactly are you going to do? Are falling rocks best avoided by going too fast or by driving slowly with your head out the window, ready to swerve off the road - and off the cliff - when the precipitation of rocks commences?]
The sign is on the ground floor. There is only one elevator. We saw the sign on the way out. But, for the way back in, I was prepared.
When we came home, the kids and I went up the stairs to use the bathroom, just in case. When we came down again, the kids were hungry, so I went back up to make some sandwiches and get some drinks. On my way down, I thought, to be safe, let’s also bring some empty bottles in case we have to go potty again. Then I figured, maybe the toolbox would be a good idea. Then I came back to leave a message with Julie at her work to be alert and, if she didn’t hear back from us in five minutes, to call the elevator people. (My cell phone doesn’t work in the elevator, and the call service in the elevator isn’t as reliable as it ought to be.) Then I lit some incense and votive candles, prayed to the orixas and decided to brave it.
Our carefulness paid off. The elevator ride went off without a hitch.