Please stand clear of the closing doors. The metallic voice sounded so final.

The young woman next to me sighed, and lent back against the lift wall. A look of total disinterest made it very clear she had no idea what was happening just a few feet away from her.

I looked at one corner of the small box as we started to be hurtled upward towards our destination. It gave no indication it understood or cared about my plight. A quick glance at the young woman, then at another corner showed me they to did not have a clue about what was happening.

My hands felt hot, the shirt and tie felt constricting, but what could I do? I was stuck, being taken somewhere without any control of the movement. The small metallic box running through its chimney like shaft inside this towering building on thin cables, controlled by massive motors and subtle electronics.

The lift slowed and came to a stop. The door opened. My chance had come. A quick look told me I was not at my destination. Perhaps I should leave now. I gasped, startling the young woman from her zombie like state. I could see a look of wariness on her face, as the sweat ran down my nose. Was she now aware of the issue? Was she becoming as concerned as I?

Why had the lift stopped? This was not my floor. Nor did it seem the young woman had any intention of departing. A tortuous prank played by some child or other deviant? Or was it simply that another lift had arrived before ours, or the person who called it had more sense and took the stairs.

The metallic voice rang out again. My chance was gone. The journey in the small capsule of metal continued.

I looked up at the numbers ticking by above the lift doors. More than half way, but it was so far to go. Sweat began to poor down my back as I felt my body tremble with anxiety. My mind raced, thinking of all the possible outcomes.

A metallic voice rang out twelfth floor. I was there. I was free. I exited the lift, walking on rubber legs. Looking over my shoulder I saw the doors close, and with that I released the pent up gas in my bowels, the flatulence erupting like thunder.

I had survived another trip without embarrassment.

Copyright © 2005 Karl Rohde