Elevator

Recently, a birthday was celebrated in my apartment.  Many people stopped by and it turned out to be a good time.


There was one small snag.


The elevator in my building scares me.  So much so that scarcely a finger is placed on the call button.  Compared to US standards, the lift is diminutive and occasionally questionably noisy.


Taking the stairs is a great way to get exercise.  Also, it is a great way to make sure you do not have to figure out how to spend two hours confined in a 2X2 (feet) box with four of your friends.


To be fair to the elevator is to say it is made for no more than 3 people.  And people by French standards, where a medium sized American is more Gulliver to the Lilliputian.

My cell rings.


“We’re stuck.”


Apparently, there is a mechanism that can open the door from the inside.  This is a secret, however.  If you do not know it, you must rely on the speed of the repairman.


And thus for an hour, my lack of elevator knowledge shines and four people get to know each other a bit better.


So if you ever come over, I would advise using the stairs.