Yesterday was entertaining. I got on two different elevators without reading the signs – always read the signs.
I got off the train, rode up to the main level, back down and up again before realizing that there were only 2 options and up was where I wanted to be. I got some funny looks from the other passengers and the station staff person wiping down the interior.
“Sorry,” I said, “I’m going up again, I wasn’t paying attention the first time.”
“Oh, Ok. I wondered.” She smiles. I disembark at the top; she stays to finish her work.
Five minutes later, I return with Mom by my side. As I press the call button the car comes into view, along with a familiar station staff uniform.
“Oh, man. The lady’s going to think I’m nuts.” I tell Mom with a laugh.
“Hello again!” The doors open and with a small start of surprise and warm smile she welcomes us in.
“She just likes riding elevators,” my mom informs her, laughing. And down we go again 🙂
Four hours later, history repeats: I hug Mom goodbye in front of the elevator, hit the call button and step inside. I hit P1, thinking to get off at Platform 1 – makes sense, right?
Nope. The car descends. Down, down, down. Looking through the doors, the view changes from that of transit travellers rushing to and fro to old, dirty, concrete walls. All I can think is: I don’t want to get stuck in here, not today in 30 degree heat, surrounded by concrete, alone with no way out – yet.
Finally, it stops and the doors open. I step out.
“Ok. Where the hell am I?” I glance around, spotting one lonely car in this dungeon of what appears to be a parkade. Apparently there’s parking. Who knew?
I turn around and ride back up into familiar territory. I get off and look at the signage.
“Elevator: To Parking and Concourse.” Well, that would be why I didn’t see any trains. That particular elevator would be around the corner, identified as “Elevator: To Trains” 🙂
— I made it home without further incident. But look me up if ever you want to elevate your transit travels to the next, fun-filled level 😀