I hate elevators. To be fair it’s not the elevators themselves I dislike (I’ve never spoken to one, of course), so much as the people who use them. And I think we need some legislation against certain kinds of behaviour within the confines of a lift.
My issues begin before I even get inside – largely because as soon as the ping rings out across the lobby to signal the arrival of one of these dreaded metal rooms of doom, a frenzy ensues that wouldn’t be out of place in some post-apocalyptic scramble for safety – except everybody is wearing suits. Think 28 Days Later crossed with Wall Street. To me, it’s pretty simple: let the people in the elevator out first then we can all enter in an orderly fashion. But at some point these clearly successful and important people lose all sense of logic as they try to wedge themselves into the lift as the people inside try to get out. It’s quite comical to begin with but then people start falling over, glasses get trodden on, briefcases somehow magically unlock spilling documents everywhere, adding at least another five minutes onto the journey. My journey.
Once inside, the indecency gets knocked up a notch. I tend to start the slow ascent to my destination by wondering why some genius hasn’t developed an invention that signifies personal space – like a nice neon bubble – because I always seem to find somebody pressed up so close to me I can still see the remnants of their breakfast stuck between their teeth.
Occasionally, people in my proximity will proceed to sing, hum or, my personal favourite, belch. Call me uptight, but I think the only bodily function permissible in lifts is breathing, and even that should be done only when necessary.
Every so often, I’m also joined by people talking, or more to the point screaming, into their mobiles. Once they start to lose reception, instead of hanging up like normal folk, they start yelling. Why do some people think this will help? Is it written somewhere in their mobile phone contract? ‘If reception fades in elevators, please shout at the top of your voice to activate remote coverage’?
Then come the ladies doused in gallons of perfume. Technically I think this should be defined as some form of assault. They must spend hours applying their scent, either that or they’re so rich they dive into swimming pools full of it. As a general rule, I believe that if people can smell you upon entering the building, then you should be forced to use the stairs.
The worst offenders, though, are people who wait minutes on end for the lift, only to ride one floor! This should be punishable by law. Any ride under two floors must be completed on foot unless physically unable to.
My mum always told me when I was growing up to keep my elbows off the dinner table and to let people off a lift before getting on. Like most things I discover as I get older, Mum is nearly always right.
Sara Taher is our Eating Out editor. We all give her lots of space in the lift.
