Stay Calm -- and Carry a Cell Phone

I'm not one of those people who freak out easily. In fact, I'm usually the one who holds it all together advising others to remain calm. If I were a cartoon character, I'd be drawn with horn-rimmed glasses, my hair in a bun, wearing orthopedic shoes. You laugh, but next time you're in a situation you'll flash on that image and pray I was with you. Unfortunately, my reputation as the Queen of Calm is forever tainted. It seems I do freak out easily --- when my building elevator gets stuck between floors --- oh yeah, with me in it! In this old building the elevator has no emergency call buttons, phones, walkie-talkies, tribal drums or carrier pigeons to connect with the outside world. I had to rely on the most primitive form of communication -- yelling my freakin' head off. To no avail, I might add. I am the Moaner in Chief when it comes to people misusing their cell phones -- and that probably won't change -- but I finally got to prove my "they're great in an emergency" theory. So here I am trapped in a little box dangling in the elevator shaft. Who ya gonna call? The Fire Department! I fully expected them to bolt up the stairs, break down the door with an axe and pull me to safety. Guess I watch too many movies. Apparently they prefer a less invasive, albeit less dramatic tool -- a screwdriver. The hunky firemen took the door off its hinges, out I stepped and off they went. The good news? I climb the stairs more than I used to. Still don't quite trust Mr. Otis' invention.