It all started one afternoon when a bunch of friends and I were looking for some entertainment. It was me and a bunch of my friends. I’m a freshman right now, and so are my friends, except for a few sophomores. We’re all relatively decent kids, and don’t get in too much trouble. This one day we were walking around campus and finally we would chill in my dorm room, which is the last room on the third floor of a big building. On our way in, we were all happy and we were joking like friends do. We got to the elevator, and people started to get on. I, being the smartest out of all of us, suggested the idea that perhaps we should take the stairs because there are so many of us. After all, its only 3 floors and exercise never hurt anyone.

            Of course they all just ignored me, as they always do when I come up with a perfectly good idea. I decided to just get on anyway. How often do elevators break?

            As soon as we all got in and the doors closed, I began to get a bit claustrophobic, but it wasn’t all that bad. I could deal with it, although it did feel like a wild mash pit at a Tool concert. Then the worst idea came to one of my friends. I opposed as usual, but it won by popular vote. We were only on the elevator for a few seconds when Denise (the heaviest one) started jumping, then Jason joined in, and they were jumping at the same time, and I saw that it didn’t seem to effect the elevator and so I joined in, jumping simultaneously, and so I jumped, and when I landed the first time, that’s when it broke.

            The elevator stopped short with a “clank-clunk, bang! Ding, thud.” This was followed by a few loud cries of profanity, and a final, “This is defiantly not cool guys.”

All I had to say to them was “told ya so.” They didn’t like that, but it wasn’t the time to argue. We were now all stuck in a broken elevator somewhere in the vertical middle of the building.

            That’s when I knew I had to do something, being the smartest out of all of us. I pressed the call button, and lucky got someone in return. Their response was “are you serious?” and all I could say was “yea.” The person on the other end said he would have someone get them out as soon as possible.

            We all stood, leaning against the crowded walls of the elevator for about 45 minutes. It was all right for most of the time, until Denis, the one who started it all, started hyperventilating. We knew we had to get out of there.

            The door was finally opened, but we still couldn’t get out. We were stuck between the 3^rd and 4^th floor. As we stood there, we got made fun of non stop by every passerby. A cop on the third floor kept asking if everything was all right, and it was, because Denis got over his little breathing fit.

            They couldn’t do anything with the elevator with us on it because they didn’t know what it would do next, so we had to squeeze out of the bottom, and jump down about 4 feet to get onto the 3^rd floor. When we got down to the bottom, a cop asked us all for our names and room numbers. I was wondering what he needed that for.        

Elevators were never really my favorite thing, in fact I was always afraid they would stop short or fall while I was in one, and I guess the devil was with us that day, because it certainly did. They’ll have a tough time getting me into that thing again – ever.