The Elevator From Hell...
Nov. 11th, 2003 11:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aribOkay, I think it's time this story finally sees print.
Caveat: This happened roughly nine or ten years ago to my former dorm counselor, Howie.
Howie, like me, attended YU, located in scenic Washington Heights, in Manhattan. Any further north, and you're in the Bronx, and a rather unsavory part of it, too.
Howie and his roommate received a late night phonecall, and needed to head downtown. Being broke college students, they made their way to the 1/9 stop on 181st street and Amsterdam.
Let me describe:
You go down a set of stairs into the station, stop at the token booth Metrocard machine, buy your fare and pass through the turnstile. Then you go to the Elevator To (or From) Hell to get to the track level.
The elevator's hot, smelly, and usually packed full of fellow commuters. There is an employee of the MTA whose sole job is to sit in that elevator and push buttons. The button to close the doors, the button to make the elevator ascend or descend, and the button to open the doors again. For eight hours a day. (Keep all this in mind, it's important)
So, Howie and his roomie make their way to the station, pay their fares and make their way to the elevator, where they are greeted by the night's button-pusher, described herein as "the little old lady who pushes the buttons to make the elevator go." It being a late night, Howie and his roommate are the only ones in the elevator, along with the little old lady who pushes the buttons to make the elevator go, who had her nose planted firmly in a crossword puzzle .So, the little old lady who pushes the buttons to make the elevator go pushed the button to close the doors, and just as they were about to shut, a voice yells out "hold the elevator, please!"
...and in walked one of those things you never see on any of the "I Love New York" commercials. A very large, very ugly, very naked man. Howie and his roommate shift uncomfortably, and try to wedge themselves into a corner of the elevator. The little old lady who pushes the buttons to make the elevator go doesn't even bat an eyelash, she just pushes the buttons, and sends the elevator on it's 45-second journey to the platform.
Midway through the descent, Large Naked Man reaches into what I can only describe as "nature's pocket" and removes two items. A crack pipe (fitting, isn't it?) and a lighter. He then proceeds to light up. Howie and roommate are now flattened against the walls and gibbering like chimpanzees. The little old lady who pushes the buttons to make the elevator go didn't bat an eyelash, and barely looked up from her crossword. She simply regarded Ugly Naked Man with one eye and said: "No smoking on MTA property sir."
Ugly Naked Man looked at her, nodded, appologized, extinguished the crackpipe and put it... away.
The doors opened, he went one way, Howie and roomie went the other, and boarded their train.
That's about where the story ends, please allow me to take a small bow.
Caveat: This happened roughly nine or ten years ago to my former dorm counselor, Howie.
Howie, like me, attended YU, located in scenic Washington Heights, in Manhattan. Any further north, and you're in the Bronx, and a rather unsavory part of it, too.
Howie and his roommate received a late night phonecall, and needed to head downtown. Being broke college students, they made their way to the 1/9 stop on 181st street and Amsterdam.
Let me describe:
You go down a set of stairs into the station, stop at the token booth Metrocard machine, buy your fare and pass through the turnstile. Then you go to the Elevator To (or From) Hell to get to the track level.
The elevator's hot, smelly, and usually packed full of fellow commuters. There is an employee of the MTA whose sole job is to sit in that elevator and push buttons. The button to close the doors, the button to make the elevator ascend or descend, and the button to open the doors again. For eight hours a day. (Keep all this in mind, it's important)
So, Howie and his roomie make their way to the station, pay their fares and make their way to the elevator, where they are greeted by the night's button-pusher, described herein as "the little old lady who pushes the buttons to make the elevator go." It being a late night, Howie and his roommate are the only ones in the elevator, along with the little old lady who pushes the buttons to make the elevator go, who had her nose planted firmly in a crossword puzzle .So, the little old lady who pushes the buttons to make the elevator go pushed the button to close the doors, and just as they were about to shut, a voice yells out "hold the elevator, please!"
...and in walked one of those things you never see on any of the "I Love New York" commercials. A very large, very ugly, very naked man. Howie and his roommate shift uncomfortably, and try to wedge themselves into a corner of the elevator. The little old lady who pushes the buttons to make the elevator go doesn't even bat an eyelash, she just pushes the buttons, and sends the elevator on it's 45-second journey to the platform.
Midway through the descent, Large Naked Man reaches into what I can only describe as "nature's pocket" and removes two items. A crack pipe (fitting, isn't it?) and a lighter. He then proceeds to light up. Howie and roommate are now flattened against the walls and gibbering like chimpanzees. The little old lady who pushes the buttons to make the elevator go didn't bat an eyelash, and barely looked up from her crossword. She simply regarded Ugly Naked Man with one eye and said: "No smoking on MTA property sir."
Ugly Naked Man looked at her, nodded, appologized, extinguished the crackpipe and put it... away.
The doors opened, he went one way, Howie and roomie went the other, and boarded their train.
That's about where the story ends, please allow me to take a small bow.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2003-11-11 08:57 am (UTC)A.
giggling madly
(no subject)
Date: 2003-11-11 10:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-11-11 10:11 am (UTC)Woman in Wheelchair: Hi everyone... I'm disabled and I can't get around real well....
Rose: Wow, that's a New York technique! Don't see much of that here.
Hope: Yeah, that's pretty unusual.
Rose: But she didn't say "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen". I thought that was the mandatory first line.
Sinboy: I wonder if there's some big clearinghouse for training the homeless in New York. They all seem to say the same things.
Rose: Maybe that's what [the sales VP at our company, who makes "jokes" about declaring open season on the homeless] did for his last job!
Mik: She's asking for money because she's disabled? I know a lot of disabled people who'd be really pissed off by that.
Sinboy: Hey, remember that classical violinist in the Times Square subway station? And the guy on the other platform who'd play duets with him?
Rose: Yeah, New York definitely gets better street musicians.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-11-11 10:14 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-11-11 02:43 pm (UTC)ummm..
[gape]
he put the freshly extinguished...er....it had to have been hot....er...shit, man.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-11-16 08:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-11-11 07:54 pm (UTC)Just say no to crack.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-11-12 11:21 am (UTC)