So close, yet so far away...

I had a harrowing experience yesterday that I will now recount for your enjoyment at my suffering, as I know we all enjoy a harty chuckle over friend's misfortunes.

Yesterday I am heading into work thankful for another glorious day of life. The sun is hidden behind gray clouds. There is more ice sparkling in the tree's then in Tiffany's. Frozen water tinkling light throughout the world with prism precision. Its a freaking winter wonderland and it's made me late for work. So as I drive carefully through intersection after intersection gridlocked as they all have become 4-way stops due to no electricity I count my lucky stars to not be...dead I guess. I hate Greenville traffic in winter time. It's like the Gamecock football program. A lot of wheels spinning, but they don't get anywhere.

So back to my story. I make it into the parking garage in downtown G'vegas and notice that nobody is around. I guess the wintery weather skeered them all way. Freakin' pansies. Grow some nuts, throw on the snow chains and get your lazy asses to work I say to myself as I approach the elevator, unknowingly about to step into lots of wasted life.

I'm in the elevaor by myself about to arrive on the 1st floor when the whole thing comes to a sudden halt. I can see the ground through the glass wall and see that I am about 2 feet above it. I was almost there and now I'm stuck in the damn elevator, with no heat, with temperatures in the 20's, freezing my tuchus off. With only my Northface waterproof, breathable Gore-Tex Apline Jacket with accompanying Denali Fleece lining and a cup of strong Joe I take in my options. I can jump up and down and try to move this crate on wires, or I can wait it out. Maybe it will start moving again. Or I can push the blinking call button and signal for help. I take the path of least resistance, its ass cold in that metal crate and I'm late for a meeting, and push the call button. I tell the man that I am stuck, give him my position, and wait for rescue. My hands begin to get cold. Somewhere in the distance a child cries. Maybe a bastard child. I genuflect on good times, warm times spent by the fire as I watch people walk by my trap as I slowly draw in on myself. I realize what a great Northface waterproof, breathable Gore-Tex Apline Jacket with accompanying Denali Fleece lining that I have and why I wear it. The don't make Dusenberg's anymore, and it's great for dealing with adversity.

Finally, something happens. The box starts to move...up. I arrive on the 4th floor somehow and get off. A kindly woman has entered my life and pulled me back from the edge of elevator paranoia. I walk on down the stairs looking hopefully for the elevator repair man to let him know I'm ok when I hear sirens approaching in the distance. I turn my head and see a large firetruck heading my direction and turn down a side street next to the garage. I think to myself, "No way they sent a fire truck to get me out." and continue towards my building. And then another set of sirens, flashing lights of safety and warmth, and a second fire truck turns down the same street and I realize something. That crazy bastard on the end of the elevator phone called in an all points bulletin on a man stuck in an elevator 2 feet above ground level. I turn to head back to let them know I'm ok when I see a police car heading towards me through the garage. A voice of reason cuts through the madness as I detail my rescue and the copper assures me he'll take care of it.

The moral of this story. When the ice storm hits, stay the f' in bed.