If you’re a freshman taking the elevators in the Quad, you are no stranger to this predicament. At first, you are lulled into a sense of false security after realizing that you know the other person on the elevator. You begin to smile and prepare yourself for the adventure of social interaction. You’re going to have so many new friends this year! Alas, the person looks at you with confusion and consternation—you are not recognized. You sadly retreat into the corner and pretend you were smiling at the suspicious smudge on the wall behind them. If only this person had remembered your name. If only conversing with other humans wasn’t so difficult. If only...
They’re like bamboo lemurs (rare), but once in a blue moon you will encounter the mysterious and fascinatingly beautiful elevator companion—this person probably even smells good. The encounter will undoubtedly happen in a high rise elevator, which gives you plenty of time to go through the five stages of grief after you determine that they either are unattainable or taken. Whatever you’re eating becomes embarrassingly messy and you forget how humans stand normally. The thirst, as they say, is real.
You near the ground floor of Van Pelt after a particularly grueling study session on the 6th floor, yet the one other person in the elevator hasn’t said a word. The tension of the silence is so palpable that it could be cut with a knife. You’re both tired from working, but still, they should make an effort right? Who is this person? What are their hopes, their dreams? You see they are wearing a One Direction shirt. “But why?” you wonder to yourself. You will never know and your nameless quasi-friend will always remain an enigma.
You encounter this situation at 9 a.m. as you take the elevator in College Hall out of sheer laziness. The trip alone is the punishment for your sloth.The single floor is one too many. You aren’t going to make it. Your head begins spinning. Have you ever held your breath for this long before? “Please,” you think, pleading silently with your fellow elevator adventurer, “Please learn the art of the shower.” It isn’t teen spirit you’re smelling, but rather massive amounts of B.O. that (you swear) isn’t your own.
You’ve spent the outrageously slow Williams elevator ride pretending to text, even though you and all of your bilingual elevator companions know that there is no service to be found aboard this metal box of doom. But finally, sweet release approaches! You near the ground floor! As you exit the elevator, the world is suddenly a brighter place. You have escaped...at least until the next time.
