The Day I Became an Elevator Rebel
It all started with a button. A harmless, unassuming, 14th-floor button. I was running late, already a little sweaty (thanks, public transportation!), and when I scrambled into the elevator, I jammed my finger at that button with the desperation of a game show contestant. And that’s when I heard it. The sharp intake of breath. The exaggerated sigh. The barely-stifled “tut” from the corner.
I had committed the cardinal sin of elevator etiquette: I had dared to push the button for my floor when someone else was already in the elevator. The horror!
The Awkward Silence (and Other Elevator Etiquette Atrocities)
Let’s face it, elevator rides are weird. We cram ourselves into these tiny, moving boxes with strangers, and suddenly, all sense of normalcy evaporates. We become hyper-aware of everything: the sound of our own breathing, the proximity of our fellow passengers, the agonizingly slow ascent to our floor.
And how do we cope with this discomfort? By adhering to a bizarre set of unspoken rules, of course! We avoid eye contact like it’s the plague, opting instead for intensely fascinating inspections of our phones or shoes. We maintain a strict code of silence, communicating only in grunts and nods. And heaven forbid we stand too close to someone, lest we accidentally brush shoulders and trigger a full-blown existential crisis.