Need a lift? Part I
Life lessons elevators have taught me
“I could use a lift right about now.”
This is my general thought as I power my way up to the top of the hill in the suburb I live in, just outside of Geneva. It’s a pretty big hill, but the view makes the burning of my lungs worth it.
Every. Single. Time.
The view
Instead of imagining a lift to mean a ride in a car, these days, my mind floats right past “ride” and “cheering up” and settles on “elevator”. Since I’m currently avoiding lifts like, well, the plague, I suppose it’s not much of a stretch for my mind to wander in that direction.
Like anyone else, I’ve had my fair share of ups and downs in those mechanical wonders. But on closer reflection, I realize I’ve learned a lot about cultures, and sub-cultures, from those magnificent flying cages.
For example, some of them teach you languages: I once learned how to count in Mandarin from a very kind elevator in Shanghai.
Others teach you manners: not greeting one’s co-commuters in a lift was considered an unforgiveable offence by the Czechs.
Back when I lived in Kazakhstan, the elevator was the best place to receive the news: that’s where important announcements about upcoming events, such as the annual water shut-off, were posted.
But there were no handy pamphlets lauding the mind-blowing elevator-innovation that I stumbled upon there, quite by accident.
The Highvill Elevator
Being very sleep-deprived in those days (having something to do with my infant who wouldn’t sleep for longer than 45 minute intervals) I did a lot of things on automatic pilot. I had a great friend (hi Yasmeen!) who lived on the 14th floor in the same building as me, and would often go visit her, very conveniently, around the supper hour. Without fail, I’d board the lift on the 3rd floor where I lived, and push the button to go down, you know, as one does when they wish to leave the building.
We all know what happens next: I would bide my time taking the ride down, wait for the lift to change its mind about what direction it was going, press 14, and after a mildly annoying delay would arrive at the door to my friend’s place, right?
Wrong.
Although I know in theory that jabbing repeatedly at the buttons does not actually make an elevator move any faster, it’s an old habit that this time came with a big reward.
As I poked the floor number several times in succession, my sleepy eyes widened when I noticed the button light turn on and off – EUREKA! This lift came with an undo button!
Simply by re-pressing the button I’d punched incorrectly, the elevator canceled my call for the unwanted floor, and I could punch in where I really wanted to go.
Not having a real-life undo button, I wasn’t going to blow this opportunity for second chances. I made sure to use that feature to its fullest!
The magical buttons of the Highvill Elevator
When I lived in Vienna, I was introduced to some very posh little lifts. My favourite one came with a plush, velour red bench made for 1.5 people, an intricately welded cage, several additional ornate handles and locks to fiddle with for security purposes, and a squealing, complaining hum from the mechanism that chided you for not having taken the stairs.
The beautiful Majolica House cage lift in Vienna
Slow and lurch-y was the common theme of those art nouveau-inspired lifts.
My neighbour there, the Count, wasn’t my greatest fan. More accurately, he wasn’t a fan of my bathroom fan, and would bang on the apartment door to give me an earful when he surmised it had been on long enough. I imagine it speaks volumes about his refined social standing that the tranquil whirring of a bathroom fan disturbed him more than my incessant piano playing.
The Count had his own artful way of getting back at me for disturbing his repose. On one occasion, it happened that we were both waiting for the small, two-person lift up to the top floor. We exchanged a simple greeting then continue our wait in silence. Once the lift arrived, the Count lit up a cigarette, made his way into the lift first, held the door open for me from the inside as a sort of apology, and then the moment I climbed aboard, he exhaled. From then on, even if he showed up when I was there first, I’d resign myself to taking the stairs: the pervasive smell of cigarettes in the elevator was a constant reminder that he would not hesitate to use such draconian measures again.
The lessons here?
Lifts can be a great location for exacting revenge
Sometimes it is better to let sleeping dragons lie – especially when the dragon isn’t complaining about your piano playing
When I started my Masters degree in piano performance at the University of Ottawa, I was introduced to the Perez building Elevator. This elevator is made for moving pianos and is infamous for not opening up on the third floor (If you haven’t met it yet, you can friend it on Facebook here.)
The infamous Perez Building Elevator, from the fourth floor
Here’s the thing: elevators meant for moving pianos are not really into people. Without fail, when I was late getting to a session on the 4th floor, the elevator would decide to spend a bit of time hanging out on the 3rd floor, flail its doors open and closed a few times, or not open them at all, have a quiet minute suspended in its shaft, and finally with a bang and a list, continue on to the 4th floor. In retrospect, this provided some great training for the “fight or flight” adrenaline reaction that kicks in just before a graded performance.
I have to say, I did have lots of great conversations and many mini musical revelations in that elevator. It was always a slow ride to the top and I wasn’t one to waste an opportunity: whichever music prof was stranded in the elevator with me had nowhere to run from my endless stream of questions. But the most important lesson I learned from the Perez Elevator was to take the stairs. It was always faster, and in the end always better for my mental and physical well-being.
In summary, here are the key takeaways I’ve learned from a few of my daily lifts around the globe:
Be courteous
In life, as in lifts, undo buttons can be rare and precious gifts.
Pick your battles
Slow down
And of course, most importantly, always take the stairs.
Stay tuned for Part II of ‘Need a lift?’
I will share how I learned that timing is everything from a Paternoster Lift and a pair of Czech vowels.
