Elevating My Anxiety

Elevating My Anxiety

It was a cold day in early March

The end of my business drawing near

And city people still talked the topic arch -

Previous September’s terrible shear.

 The east side of that city

Faced the vastness of the shallow lake

Over which the great pity

Of a winter cloud from the west much snow does make.

But this was March and not that blue autumn day,

With business to close in a different venue.

From its suburb to a downtown hotel I must stay

For contract negotiations were on the menu.

Downtown’s public square impressive to naïve eyes

With restaurants, boutiques, and an old railroad line.

One vertical tower, a center to all, cries

To many a visitor to stay, wine and dine.

A stately hotel for me was made a reservation,

Its age not perfectly hidden

By architects and engineers of restoration.

A different choice for me was corporately forbidden.

Marble fountain, vaulted ceilings,

Windows high arched, breathtakingly lovely,

Provided a sense of secure feelings,

My colleagues and I into our rooms shoved we.

Instead one day the hotel main entrance to take,

I navigated the underground parking deck.

The elevators in this antique re-make,

Restoration engineers ignored or forgot to check.

Capacity for 1,000 pounds

Its upper weight limit,

Though confidently it might sound

The people space, they slimmed it.

At the lowest level I the only rider.

But when lifted to the main floor

The elevator doors now wider,

A dozen round ball cardinals it bore.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to six.”

He yelled to his teammates without reference knowing,

“Get on!” Too many here to mix.

Now I at the back

With space for perhaps four,

Pleaded forcefully for slack.

“And don’t come through the door.”

Of course, they all boarded

This tiny lift meant for a few.

With most of our space hoarded,

I sensed some tragic due.

Not one of the dozen was less than six-eight,

All uniformed from practice I presumed.

Several floors were pressed for this massive freight,

Our ascension though, I thought doomed.

Between the fifth and sixth floors

The lift lost its strength.

Now motionless, idle and no open door,

We elevator men were stuck with each other at length.

Strike up a conversation

To keep us all calm.

But talking descended into citation

Of fault. Now began a qualm.

Twenty minutes passed,

Elevator doors slowly opened.

From a narrow gap a man asked

“How’re you guys cope ‘n?”

“Get us out of here,”

The Center crooned.

“We have some fear,

This lift will drop soon.”

It took 60 more minutes

Stabilizing the ancient elevator.

That the narrow extraction gap might skin its

Passengers, was no motivator.

I, the shortest and oldest,

Was next to last removed.

The tall Center last and boldest,

My foot in his hands, his noble character proved.

When freed, we our experience discussed.

Our cramped quarters were like a fettered man.

It was a March Madness with too much fuss.

Each of these athletes must have been a letter man.