We went to St. Simons Island, GA, for my Cuz Christopher’s wedding twelve years ago.

{Vintage pic of my heart}

My Aunt Trisha and Uncle Jim rented this extra-large, deluxe beach house for the entire family to stay in for the wedding weekend. It was a stunning property and home; right on the water, infinity pool, large gathering areas inside and out. The main house had four floors, and the guest house that had two more bedrooms and living areas to boot.

Our family of four had the top floor of the main house (4th floor). It was fabulous. A massive room with 2 queen beds, a sitting area, a balcony overlooking the water, a small kitchenette, and access to the elevator.

I vaguely recall us all arriving around the same time, some from Florida and some from GA and unloading all the vehicles. Trish and Jim had planned several big gatherings at the house for the weekend; breakfasts, lunches, the rehearsal dinner, etc.… so they came with a lot of baggage. 

We utilized the elevator to take items from the basement level, where the parking area was to the kitchen and beyond. 

It was one of those residential elevators that appeared to be a regular interior door until you opened it up; the door would only open if the elevator was called to your floor and available.

Of course, back then, Suz was a bigger fan of stairs because—fat burning. And my knees were in tip-top shape.

The weekend was just perfect; the whole fam-damily was there, plus old friends who were like family; it was such a festive celebration.

I remember the day before we departed, a big group of us were in the kitchen, and we could vaguely hear someone yelling and banging around.

We laughed and thought, who the heck is making all that racket? Well, a few minutes later, we realized it was my Mom, and she was trapped in the elevator; her room was on the third floor, and her knees were shot, so she used the elevator often. But this time, she couldn’t get the door to open.

My Uncle was able to get her out after about 10 minutes, she was panicked, and she also had a full bladder; we kind of poo-pooed her panic-ridden face. 

I regret that terribly.

Fast forward to the last day on the Island, and my family was packing up all our crap on the fourth floor. I decided to make it easy and load ALL our stuff onto the elevator and take it down in one trip. I called the elevator, started placing suitcases in front of the closed door. When the light let me know the elevator was here, I casually opened the door, turned back and started grabbing bags, then turned towards the elevator with them in hand to step INTO the elevator when I realized the elevator was NOT on my floor. 

All I could see was the empty shaft, the elevator car was in the basement. My heart dropped.

I was ——–this close——–to just stepping into blackness.

Thinking about it again right now, how I didn’t shat my party pants is beyond me.

I’ve always had a slight fear of heights, but I added fear of elevators to my list after this escapade. 

A few years later we were in Vegas with a large group of friends and we were staying on the 30th floor. There was not ONE time that I stepped into the elevator that I didn’t look closely at the floor and step in with trepidation. Everyone giggled at my nervous antics, but the hell with them. 

It was that same year that my Mom had read in the newspaper about an older couple who lived on St. Simons Island (or the vicinity) that had an elevator. They became trapped, with no phone, and subsequently passed away there.

Bev said: YOU GUYS LAUGHED WHEN I WAS TRAPPED! 

I still think of that couple when I think of elevators. 

When my Aunt and Uncle were looking at homes recently, a few popped up with elevators. ME; THE HELL WITH ELEVATORS!

Anyone else have an irrational a fear of elevators? I also have a little ‘something’ with escalators, but I shouldn’t show all my crazy in one day.

Your friend Suz who might not be able to entertain you with her blog had she taken that ONE step.

XOXO