Famous last words last night: "And now we're getting power-flicker interruptions. I'm going to avoid the elevators."
I stayed in the club room a while after that, gnoshing (gnocching?), reading news on the computer, checking social media, and enjoying the occasional sip. The happy hour was extended, possibly due to the typhoon hitting the island or maybe the troublesome American who was using the club room attendants as travel agents to book his flight out, and they accommodated him with patience and courtesy.
Finally, time to head back to the room. Or past time. I take my dishes to the nice young ladies, who act surprised and pleased every time I do that, and by reflex head out of the room and over to the bank of elevators.
You can see what's coming, right? Don't pretend otherwise.
These elevators are pretty cool. You hit the button, and the one that's going to pick you up immediately lets you know with a sound and a light. You stand by, and as the elevator is within a few seconds of opening, the light starts flashing. It's kind of like the traffic lights outside. They give you a countdown for when they're going to change, both for cars and pedestrians. It's quite thoughtful.
Anyway. The doors open up, I get on, push the button to my room and once again don't bother to push the "close door" button because the doors really do start to close as soon as you make your selection, and we're on our merry way.
For about five seconds. Then it comes to a sudden stop.
My thoughts immediately flash to when I wrote that I would be avoiding the elevators tonight, and right behind that, my mouth flashes to voice the natural reaction to what is now happening, and I don't remember the words precisely, but it was on the order of RUFKM, with gusto.
The panel is dead. I push the button for my floor. Nothing. Well, just become something doesn't work doesn't mean you don't keep trying. But no, nothing. Not for any floor.
I wait. Maybe it's just a hiccup in the power, and it'll start again in a few seconds. But it doesn't. But the lights are still on in the elevator car, so I got that going for me.
I put my shoulder bag of gear down and wait. Then I get bored. I'm looking around. Nothing. Now, I'm pretty sure that the elevator isn't hermetically sealed, but still, I don't see any obvious vents, and with no promise of getting out soon, I realize it's kind of warm and stuffy in here.
Well.... maybe the elevator got stopped at a floor. Worth a try, says the guy who's not exactly thinking ahead. I see if the elevator doors will pull open, and indeed they do, to a solid wall of mechanical-looking stuff. I try to close the doors again, but it's a lot easier opening them than closing them. I vaguely wonder if I'll get in trouble for my efforts.
I'm hearing beeps and boops that I'm used to from waiting for elevators. So something's working out there. But not with my car.
I look at the panel again. Just solid buttons, no lights, but there is a button that has a bell on it. I tap it. Nothing for a few seconds. Then some electronically distorted voices come on. We had an interesting conversation for about 10 or 15 seconds, with them saying something I wasn't understanding, and me saying something like, "I only speak English," which apparently was something they didn't understand. Well, I'm in their country. What do you expect?
Nothing's happening soon, so I sit down next to the bag and close my eyes. It's kind of late, and now I'm wondering if I'm going to spend the night in there. Why didn't I bring my travel toothbrush with me? Who am I kidding. Where would I spit?
The doors starts opening up to a half dozen concerned young men in jackets and ties, and what do you know, I am actually stuck about three feet above floor level. They're saying stuff, but the only thing I'm really catching is, "Sorry!!!" In my shirt, tie, and computer bag state, I accept their help jumping down. Well, in their kindness to the elderly, they kind of let me float to the floor.
They're apologizing, and I'm smiling and waving it off with things like, "You can't help what happens during a typhoon." I head to the stairway. One guy splits away and offers to escort me to the elevator to my floor, but I say, "I'll take the stairs, thanks." He follows me up, chatting the whole way, apologizing for half the chat, and I'm pretty much saying, "I'm fine. Hey, it's a typhoon. Don't worry about it."
In the cold light of the morning, writing this, the typhoon hypothesis becomes suspect. Yes, we had wind and rain last night along with a couple power-flickers, but the lights in the elevator stayed on, I heard the sounds of other elevators working, and I now suspect I just got treated to a mechanical failure.
In thinking about it, what were the chances of having the elevator car stop on me within an hour of me writing, "I'll avoid the elevators"? In thinking about it a little more..... probably pretty good.
