Granny’s Trapped Inside an Elevator

I let my guard down. I usually take the stairs because I don’t trust lifts, especially in countries like Croatia, where I’m unfamiliar with the building codes. I am a 68-year-old grandma who travels solo without my partner quite a bit, and for the most part, it is invigorating. Not today. I stepped into my biggest fear and pressed Floor Six. The doors closed. The elevator jolted up, down, and stopped — as did my heart. Panic immediately took over. Oh yeah, I rang the buzzer. Tried to get on my iPhone to contact my husband. Like, what could he do anyway? I was in the middle of a first-world vacation drama of my own creation. For the first minute, I chastised my lazy-ass for getting in the elevator in the first place. It was an outdated elevator in Grand Villa Argentina, Dubrovnik. Today was the last day the old hotel would have guests before it undergoes a complete renovation. This means the elevator as well. (I hope.) Maybe, when the contractors start tearing the hotel apart, they will find me. That would mean… gulp… I’m a dead artifact that my kids will have to identify. Hell no! I try to will myself to calm down. Think of floating in the Bisevo’s Blue Cave; think of playing with my grandkids. Get me out of here! I scream. No one answers. The Muzak is on too loud. I slump to the floor and check my phone. No signal. I meditate, “Om,D ear Lord, please help.” <a href="https://medium.com/crows-feet/grannys-trapped-inside-an-elevator-b68d3a34d915">Click Here</a>