essay on stuck in an elevator
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This one is about me! My parents brought my brothers and I to a fun play house one weekend, and I took the elevator upstairs. People were already in the elevator and more piled in after me. The doors closed, and the elevator began whirring, only to slow down before we made it to the next floor. The lights dimmed from a bright florescent to a yellowed color, but I could still see everyone’s faces. There were ten or twelve people within the elevator, but it wasn’t a big one, so it was difficult to rotate left or right or walk.
Someone called 911 pretty much immediately, much to my chagrin. I would have preferred complete silence. Almost immediately, all the sounds from outside echoed inwards. There’s not a lot of soundproofing in there, so I could hear a car beep from the street. I regretted not taking the stairs with my mom and older brother.
I was trapped into a steel container. Some air was blowing in from all directions. That was nice, but I remember not being able to turn or move around too much. The main issue is: I didn’t know I disliked elevators. I thought they were only an inconvenience. I enjoy taking the stairs more. There's something frightening about standing on something without a solid floor. From below the elevator, I knew there wasn't a long drop down, but I was still scared.
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