No, it wasn’t as glamorous as when the elevators stop in the movies.  It was rather disappointing, actually.  There was no dramatic jolt, I didn’t have time to sit down on the floor and contemplate my life, and [unfortunately] there was no beautiful man to fall madly in love with.  No – it was more like 3 minutes of silent panic.   I had enough time to call the emergency hot-line (which no one picked up) and ring the alarm bell (which didn’t work) before the elevator doors decided to spontaneously open so that I could jump down onto the floor of my apartment.

But I did get to wondering:  What would I have done had I been stuck in the elevator for longer?  Would I have had a revelation about my life?  Cracked my programing code bugs?  Solved the world’s problems?

The only thing I managed to do in 3 minutes was decide that I didn’t want to die.  And that I wanted pasta for dinner.

Anticlimactic.

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