Class break from hell

Last summer I was taking an elective for grad school, and halfway through the class we would get a break. I usually used this time to go down to the food court for a coffee or soda. The buildings had these elevators that were only accessible during the regular fall and spring semesters. Since that was closed, I decided to take the stairway nearest those elevators, thinking it would bring me to the same spot.

Ahem. It did not take me to the same spot. I walked down three flights of stairs, but the lower i climbed, the less finished the staircase became. Finally I came to the concrete first floor, and realized I was in some sort of back-area construction room. This wasn't right. Maybe I went down one flight too many. So I traveled back up to the 2nd floor, only to find that I was locked out. A panic rushed over me as I realized I may very well be locked in the stairwell. I tried every door all the way up to the 8th floor, and found I was locked behind every single one of them. After coming to terms with the fact that I was literally trapped in there at 8:00pm on a summer night with barely any students in the building, I decided crying was the next best move. Then I realized I had my phone. And called my parents.

Now before I go any further, I'm sure you all have your own brilliant ideas about what I should have done. I did try banging on that door, numerous times, but with my self-consciousness at its peak, I was simply too humiliated to bang on the door while yelling, "HELP. HELP ME. IM STUCK IN THE STAIRWELL IS ANYONE THERE PLEASE HELP." It's the same situation as talking while the elevator door closes halfway through your sentence: So embarrassing. Or having to respond after knocking on someone's door and they yell, "who is it?" God, I hate that.

Anyway, after realizing that my dad was probably not the right person to call, I also decided calling 9-1-1 was not the appropriate measure. So I 4-1-1'd Emerson, only to listen to a voice message tell me just how closed they were. But right at the end of that message, the voice turned into that of an angel and said, "for emergencies, call -----" Boom, calling. Apparently, that WAS 9-1-1. So first I had to convince them this wasn't an emergency, but then I had to convince them that I was real, and wasn't making a prank call. Twenty minutes later, two police men opened up Stairwell B to find me sitting behind the door. I then returned to class45 minutes late, and reported what had just happened, but no one laughed or reacted at all. I sat in my seat, sweating obviously, and decided I hated everyone in class. Minus Sarah Shugars. At the risk of looking fat for taking the elevator 3 floors, I will now ride elevators, all the time, til the day I die.

Thank you.