Trapped in an Elevator

I am writing this note from the Courtyard by Marriott in Merced, California. We arrived here late yesterday afternoon after a seventeen-hour trip from Tupelo that started at 2:30 AM with a two-hour drive to Birmingham, a flight to Chicago, a lengthy delay at Midway Airport where we met Josh and Leah who had flown in from Vermont, a 3 ½ hour flight from Chicago to San Jose, another long way at the rental car place, and a 2 ½ drive from San Jose across the mountains, into the San Joaquin Valley, past endless miles of verdant farmland, much of it filled with strawberries, cherries, almonds, grapes, and every sort of vegetable imaginable, which is why this area is rightly called “America’s Breadbasket.” Stretching north and south through central California between two mountain ranges, the San Joaquin Valley has some of the best soil anywhere. A lot of what you buy at your local grocery store starts right here. And Merced is more or less in the middle of all of it.

We decided to stay at the Courtyard because it’s brand-new. How new? It opened for business just a few weeks ago and when we checked in, we saw a TV camera and people milling around everywhere because yesterday was the official Grand Opening. Officials from Merced came to make speeches and celebrate the Courtyard—with good reason, I should add, because the rooms are beautiful and modern, in fact the entire place feels and smells clean and fresh. We even saw a sign that said, “Free tours of the hotel every ten minutes.” Dignitaries from all over the region came for the big doings.

After checking in, Mark and Vanessa came by to say hello. They had Mark’s friend, Bill Mitchell, with them. Bill graduated from Moody Bible Institute, and Mark reminded us that we had met Bill a few years ago while we were still living in Oak Park. Late one evening when Mark brought him by to meet us, Marlene and I had already gone to bed. Evidently I said, “Come on in.” So Bill walked into our bedroom, I rolled over, shook his hand and said hello. Mark says that’s how it happened so I can’t doubt it. Bill is taller than I am, probably around 6’6″. He had a hard time getting here yesterday because he flew through the Long Beach Airport, which was closed down for three hours with a terrorism scare because one of the screeners mistook a Game Boy for some sort of explosive device.

When we got ready to go (we’re staying on the third floor), our group of seven (Marlene, me, Josh, Leah, Bill, Mark and Vanessa) made our way to the elevator where we encountered a woman from the hotel leading a group of visitors (all women, several from the local chamber of commerce) on a get-acquainted tour of the property. We waited while their group boarded the elevator and then Josh and Leah got on. “We’ll wait for the next one,” Marlene said, but the woman from the hotel said, “Go ahead and get on.” So we did. There were twelve of us in the elevator.

Then it began to get hot. That was the main problem—no ventilation in the elevator. The outside temperature yesterday was around 100 and here we were, trapped in a hotel elevator. After a while it became close, then stuffy, then uncomfortable. When we hit the Emergency button, it rang through to a security agency that promised to call the hotel. More time passed and no one came. Meanwhile Josh and Bill managed to pry open the elevator door about three inches but couldn’t get it beyond that. Josh worked and worked and worked, placing his foot in the opening and pulling with his hands but the door wouldn’t budge.

To make matters worse, after about 30 minutes, we realized that no one at the hotel knew we were stuck, mostly because the Grand Opening party was going on in the lobby. The noise overcame our shouts for help.

It was really like a scene out of a movie. We laughed a bit, introduced ourselves, the other folks congratulated Mark and Vanessa and said they hoped we got out in time for the wedding. We even sang, “Here Comes the Bride” to make them laugh. At one point we stopped and prayed, asking the Lord to get us out. We called the emergency line again, only this time the voice at the other end said, “I’m sorry but I don’t think that hotel is one of our clients.” She called the Courtyard anyway. About this time we heard a male voice calling to us. It was a hotel employee saying that the power to the elevator had somehow gone off. We pretty much knew that already. By this time we had been crammed together in that unventilated elevator for about 45 minutes. We had an 81-year-old woman who recently had had surgery, her daughter who suffers from heat strokes and a woman with a racing heartbeat. No one panicked, and we all stayed in good humor.

Finally the Fire Department arrived. At first they couldn’t get the outside door open. At about the one-hour mark, with Josh holding the inside door open just a crack by wedging his foot to keep it from closing, a man from the rescue squad stuck his fingers through the opening. Josh kept the door slightly open while the rescue team worked from the outside to unhook the lock that was keeping the door closed. When they got it open, we saw that the elevator had stopped about eight inches above the second floor. One of the fire fighters stuck his head in and said, “Man, it’s hot in here.”

Thus liberated, we went downstairs where the Grand Opening was underway, complete with some local dignitary making a speech. I think the elevator mishap threw a bit of a monkey wrench into their celebration.

I took a few pictures using my cell phone. The quality isn’t the greatest but they will give you some idea of what it was like.

All told, we were inside the elevator for about an hour. Thanks to the Merced Fire Department, we were finally rescued with everyone in good shape. As someone said, “Now Mark and Vanessa have a good story to tell about their wedding.” And we’re not even to the fun part yet.