Photo by myself, somewhere on Second Avenue, heading downtown.
Parts of the city seem quaint, with twisty streets and smaller buildings. But then other parts resemble a highway.
Above, you'll see everyone on the streets, from motorcycles to skateboarders to cyclists to pedicabs.
The elevator started moving down. Then lurched a little. Then faltered and came to a stop. All the buttons on the wall started flashing in unison, as if possessed.
I was stuck.
Thankfully, I didn't have to pee in my shoe or eat my purse. After many minutes and lurches and flashings of buttons, the elevator finally crept back up to where it'd started and let me out. Phew.
I'm glad nothing serious happened. I told my fiance Mark about the incident later, and he told me he'd been stuck in an elevator twice before.
Once, for a few minutes. Then again for a half hour. He had to be rescued by firefighters, pulled out of the elevator as it was stuck between floors. It must be a somewhat common thing to happen, then.
Related posts: NYPD on Bikes, Ready to Rumble, in Brooklyn, and Ready to Rumble, in Alphabet City.