Doomsday 2011: Here's What Really Happened

*This article was written by a South Pasadena resident who prefers to remain anonymous. This is a true story. 

The time is 4:15 a.m.

It was a normal Saturday morning—a morning that has transpired for decades. As in all mornings, I wake up early. Don't ask why I wake up so early. It has been this way since I was in the military during the 1980s.

I ventured in my car to the post office. You see, I live in a condo and all my mail goes to my P.O. Box. Don't ask why I don't have my mail delivered at my home address, because I can't give you a logical answer. I've had a P.O. Box for over thirty years and for some reason I like to contribute to the postage cause.

As I get my mail, a thought pops in my head: I ran out of coffee at home. Yes, I knew I had run out yesterday, but I failed to get to the market and pick up a new supply. Don't ask me why, but I have to have my morning coffee.

 The time is 5:03 a.m.

I remember opens up at 5 a.m., and the problem is quickly resolved as I get my Cup-of-Joe.

The time is around 5:10 a.m.

I park my car and get into the elevator for that long trip up to the third floor. Yes, I could've used the stairs for exercise, but I was still half asleep. As I ventured into the elevator (with mail and coffee in hand), I pressed the button for the third floor.

The door of the elevator slowly closes.

As the seconds pass, nothing happens. I press again, nothing. I press the second floor button, nothing. I press the button to open the door, but it does not open.

I then realized my doomsday had occurred: I was stuck in the elevator.

The thoughts ran into my head. I could not ponder a solution. I tried to jump up and down to get the elevator to reset. No luck. I reached into my pocket for my cell phone: oh no, my cell phone is in the condo recharging. I look around the elevator and there's no emergency phone.

"What am I going to do," I asked myself. "It's 5 in the morning, and everyone is still asleep." That was my only thought. 

Alas, I have no choice: I press the red emergency button.

The bell rings. I press again in bursts of three. Nothing. I try again, nothing. Minutes seems like hours. No help. 

After unknown minutes of pressing the emergency button for help, I hear the words of an angel.

"I was getting the paper, and I heard the bell. Are you stuck?"  

"Yes, please call the ."

"I'll be right back."

Again, I am alone in the doomsday elevator.

I hear the wail of a siren. Firemen rush to the door and ask if I'm okay. "Yes," I reply.

I hear the sounds of metal on metal and clanks as the Firemen try to open the door. I pace in thought until it struck me like a diamond bullet: What if I have to go to the bathroom. I look at my coffee cup on the floor. Yes, that will do, but what about my coffee? I'll drink it, and use the cup. No, can't do that. That would just make the bladder worse. Only solution left: don't drink the coffee.

The firemen work for over an hour to try and open the elevator door. No luck. Then, I was told the words of doom. A fireman replies that they have tried everything short of cutting the door open. He wanted to make sure I was still OK. I replied that I was fine. And I was told that I'll have to wait until the elevator repairman comes.

Stuck in the doomsday elevator, I wait for the repair man. I hear the words on the other side say the repairman will arrive in 45 minutes. Then, I hear a fireman it's too long of a wait. As a last ditch effort, he yells for me to open the door from the inside. I try to open the door with my hands, but I can't. I try again. ...No success.

Defeated, I sit on the elevator floor.

An unseen fireman works away from the other side. Clicks and bangs of tools on metal. A call from the other side asks that I try again. I sit on the floor with my back against the wall, and I use my legs to try and pry the door open.

The door opens four inches.

I then hear yells from the firemen as they get a crowbar to prop it open.

The door opens further.

I can see a fireman's hand. He grabs the door, and it swings open.

"Are you OK," asks a fireman. I replied that I am. I asked what time is was. He replies: 6:45 a.m.

I grab my coffee and mail, and I exit the elevator.

The Fire Captain asks again to make sure that I was okay.

"I'm OK; I'm fine," I replied. "But my coffee's cold."

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