… are out to get me.
I’m doing a job in a fancy hotel right now. One of my methods of contributing to the household finances is photography. My job of the week is photographing hair artists at a company training event.
I’ve had a lifelong fear of elevators. There is no question about it – the things are pure evil. Small boxes that move up and down in a shaft supported by a cable… yeah, not a fan.
At some point I got over it. My fear isn’t like it used to be. I’m usually good with passenger elevators, although I’m often the one staring at the doors when they do not open immediately upon stopping. I’ve probably knocked over small children and old ladies while trying to get out of those deathtraps.
Today – an elevator tried to eat me. In front of a bunch of people I would rather not see me be nearly bisected by an elevator. People I have to see tomorrow. An elevator full of complete strangers – fine. No problem. But these people – I have to photograph them and I really need them not to be smirking at the camera.
I’m also having some issues riding the elevators again. All of the elevators are glass in this hotel. All of the elevators go up the side of the building. My room is on the 24th floor. If you’re at the Westin Bonaventure in dtLA, I’m the one carrying the camera with my nose to the elevator doors banging my head against them trying to out.
Can I go home now? There are no elevators in my house and there never will be.