Everybody, Stop Breathing

The sign on the wall said: “Maximum capacity 14 people”.  In the silence of a stuck elevator, someone read the sign out loud, then counted the number of people on the elevator: “-12-13-14-15-16”.  Since we were over the maximum, that person issued a command: “Everybody, stop breathing.”

It was 1962, and we were in the control tower at JFK Airport, and the elevator was supposed to take us up to the observation deck.  Nobody stopped breathing, but the elevator suddenly started moving again.

The next time I was trapped on an elevator was at Wells Fargo Advisors here in St. Louis in 2004.  I was the only person on the elevator when it shuddered to a stop.  

I pushed the button to tell Security what had happened.  Over the speaker, Security told me that help was on the way, and then asked me what I thought about last night’s Cardinals baseball game.

The Security person was extremely chatty; he wouldn’t shut up.  Then I realized that he had been told not to shut up.  Security was afraid that I would freak out being trapped by myself on an elevator.  Actually, it was much freakier to talk baseball with a voice that was coming to me remotely via a speaker.  Eventually, the elevator doors opened, and I stepped out.

Last month, I was leading a walking tour in downtown St. Louis with eight tourpeople: two Canadians and six Americans. 

Halfway through the tour, I took them into the Security Building, which has a splendid lobby built in 1890.  As I was showing off the lobby, Steve Smith walked into the building. 

Steve Smith is the CEO of the Lawrence Group, a major company that rehabs historic buildings.  They have branches in Austin, Charlotte, and New York; their headquarters are on the tenth floor of the Security Building in St. Louis.

Steve asked the tourpeople if they would like to see the tenth floor.  In the early Twentieth Century, that was the location of the Noonday Club, a gentleman’s club where Charles Lindbergh went to ask for money to finance his solo flight across the Atlantic.

Oh, yes, we would definitely like to see the tenth floor.

We piled into the elevator.  Steve Smith pressed the button that said "10".  Nothing happened.  Steve Smith then pressed the button that said "Open Door".  Nothing happened.

But Steve Smith’s cellphone did work when he dialed 9-1-1 from inside an elevator inside an elevator shaft inside a building built in 1890. 

As we stood trapped in a hot and humid elevator, I was convinced that my tourpeople were getting angry, and I envisioned them going home and telling their friends what an ordeal the tour was.  After 25 minutes, the elevator doors flew open.  Cool air gushed in, and we saw eight St. Louis City Firemen smiling at us.

The firemen were more than smiling, they were beaming at us.  They were dressed just like the firemen on TV: rubber coats and pants, big boots, and a helmet.  One guy was even holding an axe.  The firemen were beaming because they had rescued us. 

I announced to the tourpeople that I was willing to refund the cost of the tour, but they were not listening to me.  They were all busy taking selfies with the firemen.

I led the tourpeople outside, and announced that I would cut the tour short and take people back to the start point, but they were all busy taking photos of the three fire engines that had come to rescue us.

I envisioned the tourpeople going home and showing their friends photos of the firemen and the fire engines who rescued them.  And maybe a photo of the fireman who was holding an axe.

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A 3-minute video showing Nicholas White trapped in an elevator (Car 30) in the McGraw-Hill Building in New York City for an excruciating 41 hours...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_bMhNI_TY8

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  Send an email to ParadiseDouglas at gmail.com to find out how to purchase a copy by mail.