Friday the 13th

My fears in this life are small. They are also almost all irrational. For example, I fear drowning while trapped inside of a car that has just careened off of a collapsed bridge. Lengthy. Aware. But come on, picture it: The windows won't roll down. Your seat belt wont unlatch. Your car is filling with water and a fish is now sitting on your shoulder, sent there perhaps by your worst enemy to watch you die. This can happen. I also fear being buried alive. This can also happen as was proven to me while I was in college and my favorite actress was buried alive on Days of our Lives as part of her plot line. Oh beautiful Carly, I'm so glad that Vivian confessed right as you were running out of air down there. But for the fear that is now within me due to this? Yea. Curses on you, Days writers. When I die, someone please remember that this fear is very real within me, it can happen, and please, please check and recheck me before placing me underground. Throw a cell phone in there too with me just in case you didn't check me hard enough. Make sure it's turned off so that the battery lasts until I might need it. I need to be able to call for help, you can understand all this I'm sure. Thanks so much. Lastly, I fear...elevators. Yep. I know. I lived in NYC for 7 years. A place where no less than 4 elevator rides per day are the norm for every single commuter/resident within the boroughs boundaries. My average rides per weekday? 8. I hated every single one of them. The song "Sweet Disposition" by Temper Trap was my saving grace and was played constantly on these rides as it always calmed me down. Not sure why, so please don't bother asking. 

These fears have all yet to come to fruition in my life, until today, this blasted day of Friday the 13th.

I didn't come face to face with a hateful fish, nor did I lay in my coffin dialing 911. Instead, I had a lovely little morning downtown with a nice cup of coffee and a good friend. My tan deepened. I laughed. And then, I got into the elevator of the parking garage and pressed my floor, all smiley and happy go lucky. The elevator moved up. Then. It stopped. It went dark. I was alone, without my song. It was hot, the air was thin, I lost my shiz. You hear me? Lost. It. I admit it. Long story short, no one heard the emergency bell being rung incessantly for the first ten minutes of my capture. I rang it no less than 250 times. Thankfully, a young mother eventually heard my screams. Twenty minutes later, I was free. My face was caked in mascara and tears, and yes, I was still made to pay my parking garage fee of $4. Downtown, we may need to break up, your workers have no hearts. Oh. Just to lay all of my cards out there...I may have also called my husband to announce that I was stuck and might die. These last words. They needed to be said. It's understandable. I'm not dramatic, I'm just responsible and knew that this is what people did before they met their Maker.

I'm home. I'm going to go lay down now. My husband is doing his best not to laugh at me and will be taking me out for a nice dinner shortly. You may have taken a gallon of tears from me today, Friday the 13th, but you won't take my spirit or my appetite for good southern ribs.