“Kris Kross Will Make You Jump, Jump”

Or in this case, booze will make you jump, jump.

Friday night was the Princess’ and the Mean Fairy’s birthday celebration.  An assortment of co-workers converged at the Cheesecake Factory in Clarendon for din and drinkys: Moi, Flippy, The Princess, the Mean Fairy, Cabana Boi, FAIL, FAIL’s Entourage, My Little Pony, The Great White Hunter, Sir JumpsALot and other co-workers and their hunny bunnies.

Post nommage, we went across the street to a bar  (Google says the name is Harry’s Tap Room  but I remembered it as Harry Teet something)  for some more drinkys…or in Sir JumpsALot case, he downgraded from the 24 oz. vodka tonics to a wimpy 8 oz cocktail.  We hadn’t been at the Teet all that long before the emo-yuppie wannabes started yapping that it was last call. Last freakin call at 11.30 on a Friday night!??!  WTF, Harry Teet? We’re raging alcoholics, and you could have made a pretty penny off of us. Enough to maybe even remember your real name.  But you go ahead with your grandma closing hours.  God forbid you miss the Matlock reruns.

Since SirJumpsALot, My Little Pony and The Great White Hunter had navigational issues getting to Va., The Princess and I decided to ride w/ them to the Crystal City Palace and then send them on their way. Cuz we’re nice like that. So 5 people entered an elevator the size of a regular office cube. The doors close. The elevator engages. Jumpy leans over to Hunter and  exchanges man-speak for “let’s pretend we’re 12” and they  proceed to jump up and down in a moving elevator.

We. Were. Not. Amused. Especially when the elevator stopped moving and an odd “RRRRrrrrrrrrrr” sound was heard followed by a ominous silence.  We all looked at each other, with a “No effin’ way this is happening” look on our faces,  which in turn became the look of  “oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiit.”  We ‘uns was  stuck.

First reaction: Awwww, fuck.  Second reaction: Time to Tweet.  Third reaction: Fuuuuck, I can’t get a signal!!

My Little Pony immediately started pressing all the buttons which did nothing other than light up and look pretty. And you know that lil button that has the fireman’s hat on in that one is lead to believe you would press in case of an emergency like, you know, being stuck in an elevator? Yeeeeeeah, that button no worky.  The “Cancel Call” button next to it worked, which was its own brand of irony.

It was at this point that Sir JumpsALot decided to slump down to the floor and start croaking singing “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen”.  As you can imagine, we were a snarky group.

We got the call box thingy opened which rang to a deeeee-lightful individual we will call Asshat. After Asshat gave us the oh-so-reassuring promise of “We THINK we can get you out,” some of us might have gotten a little anxious and said something to the effect of “Get me the fuck of your fucking elevator.”  Which in turn prompted Asshat to respond, “I can’t help you if you keep using such language.”

Dear Asshat,

I’m sorry we don’t use the words “Fudge” or “Fiddlesticks” like you obviously do.  But when you have 5 people stuck  in a v. confined space, telling them that you THINK you can get them out, isn’t quite the vernacular that inspires confidence in your abilities. Mmmmmmkay?

Latas you muthafudger!

After Asshat left us inspired to lead a less profane-filled life while waiting for the rescue he THOUGHT might one day reach us, we focused our attention on the little “Break Glass in Case of Emergency”  case that held a shiny, red phone that would ideally connect to the fire department.  Picking the lock didn’t work, so Jumpy broke the glass.  Now our tiny metal cage had an addition of shattered glass on the floor.  And the shiny red phone was more like a a red phone covered in 12 yrs. worth of dust and didn’t work. At all. No dial tone, no buzz, no static, nothing.

The Hunter then gave us some wonderful words of comfort: “At least we have enough ethnical diversity here that we could start our own nation if we needed to.”   Um, yay?

Keep in mind this entire time we are trying to get signals on our phones, and occasionally can actually sent a text out. Those of you that follow me on Twitter would have gotten some gems including: “Seriously. Call 911. We r stuck in elevator at n. Fillmore in clarendon. And we think they sent the firetruck to the wrong place.”  

When Asshat asked us where we were, we read off the address of the elevator certificate, which is why I thought the fire dept. to the wrong place. Visions of firemen at an empty office building while we became news headlines danced in my head.

After a while we decided to buzz Asshat again for a lil update. Asshat’s response: “You guys are still there?!?!” Um, where the fuck did you think we were going since we were, y’know,  STUCK IN YOUR FUCKING ELEVATOR.  Ahem.

This response brought out our snarky side which resulted in yet another life lesson from Asshat. “You guys need to be taking this more seriously.”

Dear Asshat,

I’m so sorry that I have a personality. I’m sorry that I tend to surround myself with persons of similar levels of personality.  I’m sorry we weren’t crying and hyperventalting when we called you.  I’m sorry that we were making this experience into something we could joke about instead of going “Woe is me” for 45 mintues. Next time I get stuck in an elevator I will make sure it is with some cardboard cutout of a person who lives in a Chicken Soup for the Soul-esque bubble,  much like yourself.

Kthxbai!

More time passed, the Hunter farted, The Princess and I contemplated smoking to see if that would get someone to us faster, attempts to call 911 and friends in the area were made and we tried to get Jumpy to sing again.  Finally the sounds of resue were heard. Huzzah, the beefy firehotties were here!! Sadly I was  so intend on making a break for it when the doors opened that I didn’t really notice that there was a firehottie to “thank.”

So boys and girls of the Interwebs, should you find yourself stuck in a similiar situation remember:  It’s Fudge not Fuck, take EVERYTHING v. seriously and most importantly, make sure your companions are milquetoast-y specimens that will make your confinement as interesting as watching an episode of Martha Stewart Living.

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~ by pithycomments on December 22, 2008.

5 Responses to ““Kris Kross Will Make You Jump, Jump””

  1. Ahh this is my worst nightmare and I park in that garage a lot. Sounds like y’all handled it much better than I would have.

  2. bwahhahahaha. The only reason I’m thankful for catching the plague last week…. although, I thought about it. If I’d been with you guys, i guarantee that Drunk Carl would’ve challenged you elevator-goers to a race, and I would’ve ran up the stairs. It’s nice to know I would’ve won.

  3. So YOU were the reason I had to walk down the stairs in three inch heels the other day? Tiny, microscopic little world.

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