I’m trapped in my elevator. And guess what? I have to pee. Nobody’s surprised here, right? I’ve actually had to pee for over 2-hours, and was so happy when I got into the elevator knowing that I’d be in my apartment in less than 30-seconds. I wasn’t worried. Now that I’m caught in the elevator, I’m crazy worried.
I live in a small building. Often you don’t run into anyone else for weeks. Even months some time. It’s nice because you feel like you live in your own building, but it sucks when you’re stuck in the elevator.
With no cell phone on me, my only hope is the emergency button. I start pressing it, and it makes this annoying ringing. Press. Ring. Press. Ring. Of course nobody’s ever around so it’s useless.
After pressing it a few times I realize I heard this noise a few nights ago and had no idea what it was. I turned my music up and ignored it. Now I know it was somebody stuck in the elevator. Another thing for Karma to hate about me.
I stop pressing the button and look in my bag of groceries. There’s no jar. No containers. No nothing to pee in. This is what you get for eating fruits and vegetables.
A few hours earlier I went to the gym and ran five miles. I drank ten glasses of water while I was at the gym. Then I came home, showered and drank another ten glasses of water. Blow dried my hair. Drank more water. Got dressed. Drank some more water. Running inside makes you hot and thirsty. This is all a good argument for why people should stay home and sit on the couch.
Then I peed and left my apartment for two hours. I did a bunch of errands and definitely needed to pee again, but figured I was close to home and I’d just wait until I got into my apartment. I waited for what seemed like forever at the grocery store, but I was only steps away from my apartment. Once in the elevator, all I could think about was going to the bathroom. And now I’m stuck in the elevator potentially forever.
Most people would be afraid of dying. The elevator falling. Hurting themselves. Claustrophobia. Anything else than what I was afraid of. I wasn’t even scared because all my brain could focus on was not being able to pee. I was sitting on the floor of the elevator for what felt like an eternity when I thought I heard something.
Frantically, I started pushing the button. It was making the crazy ringing noise. Finally a voice, “Are you stuck in the elevator?" I screamed, “Yes and I have to pee.” This guy, I never met, told me, “Don’t worry. I’ll get the super.” I started to tell him to call the fire department, but he left so quick I couldn’t get it out.
Pain. I had been sitting and needing to pee and now that I was standing it was painful. The super lived a few buildings down. I waited and waited and waited. I wondered if the guy got distracted and forgot. I swore I wouldn’t do it. But suddenly there was no choice.
There’s a carpet on the floor of the elevator, and I push it to the side. I’m wearing jeans so I figure it won’t be very noticeable. Anything would be better than thewhite pants.
I let a little pee out and it goes right down my leg onto the floor. Did I think my legs were made of sponge? I peed a little. Then a little more. And finally some more. Such a relief. There was much more pee left in me, but I was hoping I’d be able to finish in a bathroom. Who knew how much longer I’d be here? I wonder if something happened to the guy.
And then I hear the sirens. Men running up the stairs. Someone screams, “It’s the fire department. We’re going to get you out. Don’t worry.” And I want to die. Again. Piss! Damn you! Why have you done this to me? If I knew help would be here so quick, after waiting so long, believe me I would’ve held it. Trust me. I’m now stuck standing in my own urine with nowhere to run. This is worst than with Piss Bed Guy, I think.
They pry the doors of the elevator open, and I’m standing in my wet jeans. On a wet floor. And it’s all my fault. Six beefy hot guys are dressed in their cute fire man outfits with an ax and crow bar ready to save me. If only they had brought a port-a-potty and some towels.
One guy says, “Are you okay?” I said, “Sorta. I was stuck for hours in here and really had to pee. I peed on myself, and it’s really gross. So now that the door is open I can take it from here.” But the elevator was stuck between floors and you know these guys are heroes. Burning buildings. Fires. And now Piss Girl. They’re not going to just let me do this on my own.
One guy jumped down and effortlessly boosted me up while the others lifted me. These guys were awesome. Seriously strong and hot. There was this one who was really cute and as the guy in the elevator gave me my groceries, Cutie Pie was chatting me up.
Can I really date someone who’s seen me standing in my own urine? It didn’t work with Piss Bed Guy. I thought maybe this was my chance. I’d date Cutie Pie, and give him my real phone number, and never pee in his bed. And now it’s full circle. A guy. Pee at the wrong time. The right phone number. Pee on my pants. And Cutie Pie’s name was John. It’s all coming together. But then he takes off his gloves, and I see a wedding ring. Karma! She did it again.
But I don’t want to think about Karma and me right now. I’m deliriously happy while I sit on my toilet with my pee jeans around my ankles. Relieved to be out of the elevator finally peeing in a toilet. It’s hard not to laugh about this one. Until we meet again, Karma. Until we meet again.