Some days are better than others.
Today started out nicely for me. I was up early because I had an appointment for a couple of those yearly tests that only women are lucky enough to need.
It was a beautiful day – sunny with temps in the high seventies. Mr. H. drives me to most doctor appointments. It seems to be something men do after retirement. Works for me. I don’t enjoy driving anyway and always get more than a little stressed in traffic.
So, running late, as usual, we headed up I-64. There was little traffic and it looked as if we’d get there on time. However, most things are subject to change. No sooner had the words, “Looks like we’ll make it,” come out of my mouth when Mr. H. went sailing right on by the entrance to the hospital parking lot.
There was no backing up. No turning around. Nope! This was a one-way street – a heavily traveled one. With about four minutes to go, he had to drive quite a distance around a long block to get back to the hospital. But once we were on the lot, I jumped out of the car and hurried into the building while he tried to find a parking space.
Just as I got inside, I saw the elevator door closing. There was only one young man, all dressed in white, on the elevator. I yelled, “Hey, could you wait, please?” He very kindly stopped the door from closing and let me on.
“Where’re you going?” he asked. I said, “Dr. Jones' office.” He said, “What floor?” I shrugged, feeling my face flush.
He stopped the door from closing again and said, “There’s a directory right outside the elevator. You can check that, but you’ll miss the elevator.”
Geeze, I thought, he’s a little rude!
About that time, a pretty young girl, clipboard in hand, obviously an employee, stepped on the elevator and said to me, “Who are you looking for?” I told her and she said, “Come on, we’ll look at the directory.” I said, “But we’re holding him up,” to which she replied, "That's okay.” (She clearly had seniority).
But as I started to follow her, the heel of my shoe went down into the elevator track and I couldn’t pull it loose. Not noticing my dilemma, she said, “Dr. Jones is on three.”
I said, “Thanks, but I’m stuck!”
The poor guy in the white clothes said, “Don’t move.” Sort of an odd request considering I couldn’t move!
So, while I stood there with one foot behind me, stuck in the track, and the other just outside the elevator, I envisioned all sorts of scenarios: What if the door closed now? Would it squeeze me to death? Even worse… what if someone pushed a button and the elevator started going up? Would they find half my body on the second floor and the other half still on the first?
In seconds, the man had my heel loose and I got back on the elevator – all of me – and calmly said, “Three, please.”
When I got off, I thanked the two of them and headed for Dr. Jones’ office, none the worse for wear.
Later, when I related the whole story to Mr. H., he said, “You should know that elevators won’t move if the door is open, and the door won’t close if something is in its path.”
“I know that,” I assured him. “I was a little tense – not thinking straight.”
But that wasn’t enough for Mr. H. He likes to explain things to the max. He continued. “Even if the door tried to close, it wouldn’t. It would hit you and bounce back, wait a few seconds, hit you again and bounce back, and on and on until you moved out of its way.”
“I can see the headlines now,” I said. “Woman Beaten To Death By Elevator Door!”
All in all, it was a great day!