Monday, August 13, 2007

Elevator

Since I'm being entirely indulgent in my posts today, a word on the elevator in my office building. It doesn't work. It doesn't work well. It will go up, if you are on the 1st floor. It will take you to the 5th floor. It will not come to the 5th floor, however, if you call it. You have to walk down. George, our less than super super has tried to fix it. He has brought in men to try to fix it. It has not been fixed. It should be noted that George has his own, separate elevator, for him, and for shipments. So he does not quite feel the pain acutely.

The elevator is old, small, dingy, and boxy. It is probably an Otis elevator, but it may be another brand. I don't know how many brands of elevators there are in the city.

Everyday, when I get in the elevator, one of two threads play through my mind, equally fun. The first is inspired by the various malfunctions of the elevator. In no particular order, they are (or, rather, they include:) not coming to the 5th floor when called (probably a problem with the button), the door not closing on the first try, but rather shuddering a foot out, and then wearily retracting (probably a problem with the door), the door closing on the second try, but not smoothly, making two-thirds of its trip confidently, then slowly jerking and spasming its way for the final third (again, door), the floor indicator on the ground floor indicating that the elevator has just reached floor 6 before the doors open on floor G (probably a signal problem), the occasional full-day stoppages (probably an elevator problem).

Oddly, among this litany of complaint, I take solace in one small realization: that in each of these failings, the world is still comprised of circuitry and simple machines, of the sort that, individually, a curious child might discover and master the inner workings. That the world has not been reduced, through overwhelming displays of technology, to magic, faith, and superstition.

So that's one good thing.

The second train of thought has entirely to do with trying to figure out, or at least imagine, what would happen to a person if dropped five stories in a six foot-by-six foot-by-eight foot metal box. So far, I have gotten to hitting the floor hard, then hitting the ceiling hard, then hitting the floor hard again. I have not yet settled on a strategy to minimize damage to vertebrae, nor do I feel comfortable broaching such morbid topics with my still new-ish co-workers. So, any informed opinions would be greatly appreciated.

Photos form a surprisingly fruitful Flickr search for "Stuck Elevator"

3 comments:

karsten said...

I tried to do some research on falling elevators. It turns out that the easiest way to die from them is by falling down the shaft onto the elevator. So as long as you're not doing this, you're at least not in the mainstream of elevator casualties.

And I found some nerds arguing bitterly over the wisdom of jumping at the very end of the fall. The ones shouting the loudest, who I can only assume are the ones with the biggest knowledge, thought that jumping only made you look like an idiot.

I would recommend absorbing the shock with your legs as much as you can. But make sure you don't smash your chin into your knees upon impact and bite off part of your tongue. Then you'd really look like an idiot and the hot woman next to you would never condescend to accept your dinner invitation.

Professor Atish said...

Yeah, jumping crossed my mind as a strategy that someone might suggest. But it simply doesn't make any sense to me. I will grant that, while I always did reasonably well in physics class, my imagination is solidly pre-Newtonian, never really putting together the picture of equal but opposite forces.

karsten said...

The deal with jumping is that given how many "Gs" there are in the elevator when it's falling, you would have to jump with a force of a whole bunch of opposite "Gs", maybe even 20 of them. This is too much for your human legs and it would impress nobody, neither the elevator nor the ground. So all you would do is put yourself in a bad position for the impact, like nose-first or that spot on your elbow that really smarts.