what was that? is that all there is? who is this? this is it.

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love in an elevator

November 14, 2006

On the way to the courthouse with a bag full of King filings and research jobs, I made a drop at 1001. When I cleared that rush on 44 I got back on an elevator to head down to the lobby and the buttons for four floors were lit up in a pattern. I smiled and tried to remember what bikes were locked up outside to think of what messenger left me this gift. When I pressed the lobby button it lit up and created a perfectly symmetrical cross of illuminated elevator buttons. I was holding some deadlines but nothing outrageous. I considered my options and decided to ride it out, while I thought about who pressed these buttons and the deep meaning behind it all. It had to be a messenger or somebody‘s kid on bring your kid to work day, the elevator stopped on all four of those floors and nobody got on. As the doors closed on that last floor the elevator made a strange noise, then sort of dropped a bit and stopped, then it repeated that three more times and stopped. No movement. No open door button action. Nothing. I paused, looked at my Nextel, which of course gets no coverage in the cement tower built at the height of the Cold War, what civilians call the 1001 Fourth Avenue Plaza, what I call “ten-oh-one“. Then I hit the call button, got the front desk security phone and then got forwarded to the elevator service company dispatcher. She told me to remain calm and said help was on the way and I asked her to call my dispatcher and tell him the story. So I sat down and thought about how I had no food in my bag, but I had some water. I also was very thankful that I was not on a crowded elevator with a bunch of fat guys from the IT department at Riddell. However don’t we all have fantasies about getting stuck on an elevator with that special someone…yes, yes we do. Anyway, about ten minutes later it started up and I got off as soon as I could and took another elevator to the lobby and called my dispatcher.

Some days I spend more time on elevators than I do on my bike. No joke. I’m a core whore. A legal messenger. Bouncing between the courthouse and opposing counsel all day long. At the Columbia Center, the tallest building west of Chicago, I can spend 25 minutes making pickups and deliveries and riding in as many as 10 different banks of elevators and a few escalators too. And it’s a safe bet that during those 25 minutes one of those clients will call in another job making for another yo-yo trip. Yo. When you get stuck on an elevator you realize how much you take for granted the performance of these little amusement park cubes we ride in everyday.


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