In all my years of living in apartments, I've never lived in an elevator building.  There were days, when I was shlepping my stuff up three, four flights of stairs that I longed for an easier way.  Usually, the fantasy involved someone else entirely and they were carrying my stuff.

My sister lived in an elevator building years ago when we lived in NY and it was always a surreal experience.  There's the wait time:  You're standing before the doors and chit-chatting with the doorman.  There's the entrance surprise:  You never, ever know who'll be coming off at the same time you're getting on.  And then there's the multi-floor personal experience:  Being in a tiny box with strangers, acquaintances, or possibly an enemy or two, depending on your relative interest in your sibling's neighbors.  Elevators can be strange and wondrous places.

There was once an email that went round, in the early days of emails that would go around to everyone, about the funny things you could do to others while riding in an elevator.  They mostly involved things with you talking to yourself, or to someone in your purse, or out loud to the person next to you...  I don't remember one of them ever being this:



but I wish it had been.

I need to take an elevator more often.


mucho thanks to my new friend at acute angle for the video!