Elevators.

I don't know what about being in a small tiny room carted up and down by a pulley system appeals to me, it just does. It could be the forced awkward social interactions had within the tiny room. Or maybe just the confinement and isolation. Whatever it is, I like elevators. I had sex in an elevator once, it was hot. But some elevators are sketchy.

The elevator going up the Eastland Hotel Parking Garage is a very sheisty deal. The double steel doors like to shake violently with a terrible noise as it travels between floors. Terrifying. Sometimes the delay between when the elevator reachs the floor and the doors open is just long enough for you to think that the doors might not open. Also terrifying.

Once, on top of the Eastland Hotel Parking Garage, we went to the elevator to find a homelessmen sleeping in it. We were all very frightened that he was dead. But I thought I heard him breathing. Tim, Aaron's roommate, was with us. Without missing a beat he shouted "YO! YO, DUDE!" but the sleeping man did not respond. We took the other elevator. Later, we found out it was John the Prophet.

The elevator on the World Trade Center was very, very fast.

The elevator in Robie Andrews residence hall was a pretty cool one. There was a button with a picture of a fireman's hat on it. It was an emergency button of some sort. One of my old roommate's Corey always wrote in marker over it "Push for Free Hat." He even mentioned that he wanted to arc weld a plaque with that engraving over the button, so the janitors could not erase it. But we shortly after concluded that to arc weld in an elevator would cause a lack of oxygen and he'd pass out. Thus, he would not be a smooth criminal.