a typical day...

A typical day…

It was Tuesday. I had class at 9:45am and was supposed to meet my teacher before class at 9am for some “remedial” work…. (the result of joining a class at the end of August that began in early July…) However, upon arriving at the university, the librarian, who speaks no English, informs us in Russian and with body language that my teacher is sick. After a few minutes we understand that class will be cancelled for both Tuesday and Wednesday. So it is 9:20am or thereabouts and I just spent at least 45 minutes going from home to school and am faced with spending another 45 minutes on the return trip… only to turn around an hour and a half later to go to a friends house for a meeting. WELL… this is not the most desirable option. So after going with my fellow classmates, an American, a Frenchman, and a Japanese fella, to a bakery for coffee, I decide to call my friends I am meeting at 1pm to see about coming over early. Everything was OK with them, so I left about 9:45am to head to their place, about 20-30 minutes away. I get to their apartment building at about 10:05am. My friends are expecting me around that time or closer to 10:15am. I walk into the entryway to get an elevator to the 8th floor. There are two elevators. The first one that is available I walk in, push 8, and the doors close.

Then something funny happens. (Albeit perhaps not altogether atypical…)

The lights go off and the elevator makes this oh-so-comforting sound of the power turning off. (ZZHhhrrrrrmmmmm….) OH GREAT. So I am stuck on the first floor in a dark, closed elevator by myself. (Good thing I’m not claustrophobic.) I remember, luckily, how I was in an elevator with my roommate earlier and we were stuck temporarily – although the lights were on – and I remembered the buttons the lady told us to push to get the doors to open. So I think, I’ll push this “stop” button and then I’ll push “1” and maybe the doors will open like last time. UH… NO. Not so much. So then I push every button I can. I try combinations of buttons. Finally I push the call button and some Russian speaking woman comes over the intercom in the elevator…. Of course…. She is speaking in Russian… very quickly… and I can’t understand a single thing she is saying. (My friends speculated later she was telling me to stop playing around in the elevators… haha.) So I’m telling her in my elementary Russian, “Please…. I speak English…. I only know a little Russian… Do you speak English?” Well…. more Russian. I’m not getting any closer to escaping. I would say at least 5 minutes go by. So I try to force the elevator doors open from the inside. I get them about 5 centimeters cracked and can see the light from the entryway and get a whiff of the air on the outside. (Believe me, the air outside the elevator was so much nicer than the air inside the elevator.) So I start pounding on the elevator doors and talking through the crack… I say in Russian…. “Hello… hello…. Please… hello!!” I can think of nothing else to say. I don’t know how to say “help” or “elevator” or “I’M STUCK”… So at this point… I’m feeling very frustrated. Another 5 minutes go by. Occasionally the Russian woman comes over the intercom. She seems to be saying the same thing to me, but all I can say is, “I don’t understand!!” over and over and over again…. I push buttons again. I start to sing. I pound the doors some more. I look at my (indiglo) watch. 15 minutes have gone by. It’s 10:20 at least. I wonder when my friends will wonder where I am… when they will come looking for me… or I wonder if I will have to wait until 1pm when the meeting is to start to hear my friends come and yell from the confines of this elevator for their help, knowing they will understand my English. It is then, as I ponder my fate for the next 3 hours, that the lights MIRACULOUSLY come on and the doors open. I shoot out as fast as I can, and as I pass the next elevator, I see a Russian fella with a very quizzical look staring at me. He must have come to get an elevator, and mine opened along with the other one. PHEW.

It is when I emerge that I notice…. A piece of paper… hanging over the elevator…. In Russian…. Three words…. I only know the first two that mean: “Does not work.”

YOU KNOW…. It would have been so helpful if this sign were not some handwritten note over the elevator where only tall people might perchance glance to read it… but so this is Belarus and what can I say? It was bound to happen at some point. Everyone I am sure has had the fun of being stuck in the elevator at some point or the other. Some are just not so “fortunate” as me to be stuck 1. Alone, 2. In the dark, 3. Without a cell phone, and 4. With no ability to communicate in the native language.

Just another saga…. A day in the life for a stupid American, eh?? ;) Though at the time, it was certainly an upsetting event, it was later a cause for much laughing and joviality as I re-enacted my broken Russian being spoken through the crack of the elevator doors, in search of understanding listeners and salvation...