WOW....tHat must be tough.....poor man. 41 hours? Then he must have looked really,pale..
A friend of mine showed me this article that was written recently about a man who was trapped in the elevator for 42 hours. Keep in mind that this happened nearly a decade ago. You can see how fragile a person's psyche is. I know you folks don't like to read, so I'm only going to quote parts of the eight page article that talks about the guy's two day ordeal. You will be able to find the full article's link in the same page as the video link below.
Security Camera in fast pace showing the guy: Trapped: Online Only Video: The New Yorker
The longest smoke break of Nicholas White’s life began at around eleven o’clock on a Friday night in October, 1999. White, a thirty-four-year-old production manager at Business Week, working late on a special supplement, had just watched the Braves beat the Mets on a television in the office pantry. Now he wanted a cigarette. He told a colleague he’d be right back and, leaving behind his jacket, headed downstairs.
The magazine’s offices were on the forty-third floor of the McGraw-Hill Building... When White finished his cigarette, he returned to the lobby and, waved along by a janitor buffing the terrazzo floors, got into Car No. 30 and pressed the button marked 43. The car accelerated. It was an express elevator, with no stops below the thirty-ninth floor, and the building was deserted. But after a moment White felt a jolt. The lights went out and immediately flashed on again. And then the elevator stopped.The control panel made a beep, and White waited a moment, expecting a voice to offer information or instructions. None came. He pressed the intercom button, but there was no response. He hit it again, and then began pacing around the elevator. After a time, he pressed the emergency button, setting off an alarm bell, mounted on the roof of the elevator car, but he could tell that its range was limited. Still, he rang it a few more times and eventually pulled the button out, so that the alarm was continuous. Some time passed, although he was not sure how much, because he had no watch or cell phone. He occupied himself with thoughts of remaining calm and decided that he’d better not do anything drastic, because, whatever the malfunction, he thought it unwise to jostle the car, and because he wanted to be (as he thought, chuckling to himself) a model trapped employee.
He hoped, once someone came to get him, to appear calm and collected. He did not want to be scolded for endangering himself or harming company property. Nor did he want to be caught smoking, should the doors suddenly open, so he didn’t touch his cigarettes. He still had three, plus two Rolaids, which he worried might dehydrate him, so he left them alone. As the emergency bell rang and rang, he began to fear that it might somehow—electricity? friction? heat?—start a fire. Recently, there had been a small fire in the building, rendering the elevators unusable... He also began hearing unlikely oscillations in the ringing: aural hallucinations. Before long, he began to contemplate death.White has the security-camera videotape of his time in the McGraw-Hill elevator. He has watched it twice—it was recorded at forty times regular speed, which makes him look like a bug in a box. The most striking thing to him about the tape is that it includes split-screen footage from three other elevators, on which you can see men intermittently performing maintenance work. Apparently, they never wondered about the one he was in. (Eight McGraw-Hill security guards came and went while he was stranded there; nobody seems to have noticed him on the monitor.)
After a while, White decided to smoke a cigarette. It was conceivable to him that, owing to construction work in the lobby, the building staff had taken his car out of service and would leave it that way not only through the weekend but all through the week. That they could leave him here as long as they had suggested that anything was possible. He imagined them opening the doors, ten days later, and finding him dead on his back, like a cockroach. Within hours, he had smoked all his cigarettes.At a certain point, he decided to open the doors. He pried them apart and held them open with his foot. He was presented with a cinder-block wall on which, perfectly centered, were scrawled three “13”s—one in chalk, one in red paint, one in black. It was a dispiriting sight. He concluded that he must be on the thirteenth floor, and that, this being an express elevator, there was no egress from the shaft anywhere for many stories up or down. He peered down through the crack between the wall and the sill of the elevator and saw that it was very dark. He could make out some light at the bottom. It looked far away. A breeze blew up the shaft.
He started to call out. “Hello?” He tried cupping his hand to his mouth and yelled out some more. “Help! Is there anybody there? I’m stuck in an elevator!” He kept at it for a while.I hope you guys don't mind the double post, because the site hit me with the 10000 character limit.(He) opened the doors to urinate. As he did so, he hoped, in vain, that a trace of this violation might get the attention of someone in the lobby. He considered lighting matches and dropping them down the shaft, to attract notice, but still had the presence of mind to suspect that this might not be wise. The alarm bell kept ringing. He paced and waved at the overhead camera. He couldn’t tell whether it was night or day. To pass the time, he opened his wallet and compared an old twenty-dollar bill with a new one, and read the fine print on the back of a pair of tickets to a Jets game on Sunday afternoon, which he would never get to use.
... Eventually, he lay down on the floor, intent on sleep. The carpet was like coarse AstroTurf, and was lousy with nail trimmings and other detritus. It was amazing to him how much people could shed in such a short trip. He used his shoes for a pillow and laid his wallet, unfolded, over his eyes to keep out the light. It wasn’t hot, yet he was sweating. His wallet was damp. Maybe a day had passed. He drifted in and out of sleep, awakening each time to the grim recognition that his elevator confinement had not been a dream. His thirst was overpowering. The alarm was playing more aural tricks on him, so he decided to turn it off. Then he tried doing some Morse code with it. He yelled some more. He tried to pick away at the cinder-block wall.
At a certain point, he decided to go for the escape hatch in the ceiling. He thought of Bruce Willis in “Die Hard,” climbing up and down the shaft. He knew it was a dangerous and desperate thing to do, but he didn’t care. He had to get out of the elevator. The height of the handrail in the car made it hard for him to get a leg up. It took him a while to figure out and then execute the maneuver that would allow him to spring up to the escape hatch. Finally, he swung himself up. The hatch was locked.
At a certain point, (he) ran out of ideas. Anger and vindictiveness took root. He began to think, They, whoever they were, shouldn’t be able to get away with this, that he deserved some compensation for the ordeal. He cast about for blame. He wondered where his colleague was, why she hadn’t been alarmed enough by his failure to return, jacketless, from smoking a cigarette to call security. Whose fault is this? he wondered. Who’s going to pay? He decided that there was no way he was going to work the following week.
And then he gave up. The time passed in a kind of degraded fever dream. On the videotape, he lies motionless for hours at a time, face down on the floor.
A voice woke him up: “Is there someone in there?”
“What are you doing in there?”
White tried to explain; the voice in the intercom seemed to assume that he was an intruder. “Get me the **** out of here!” White shrieked. Duly persuaded, the guard asked him if he wanted anything. White, who had been planning to join a few friends at a bar on Friday evening, asked for a beer.
Before long, an elevator-maintenance team arrived and, over the intercom, coached him through a set of maneuvers with the buttons. White asked what day it was, and, when they told him it was Sunday at 4 P.M., he was shocked. He had been trapped for forty-one hours. He felt a change in the breeze, which suggested that the elevator was moving. When he felt it slow again, he wrenched the door open, and there was the lobby. In his memory, he had to climb up onto the landing, but the video does not corroborate this. When he emerged from the elevator, he saw his friends, with a couple of security guards, and a maintenance man, waiting, with an empty chair. His friends turned to see him and were appalled at the sight; he looked like a ghost, one of them said later. The security guard handed him an open Heineken. White told a guard, “Somebody could’ve died in there.”“I know,” the guard said.
White had to go upstairs to get his jacket. He demanded that the guards come with him, and so they rode together on the service elevator, with the elevator operator. The presence of others with radios put him at ease. In his office he found that his co-worker, in a fit of pique over his disappearance, had written an angry screed, and taped it to his computer screen, for all their colleagues to see. He went home, and then headed to a bar. He woke up to a reel of phone messages and a horde of reporters colonizing his stoop. He barely left his apartment in the ensuing days, deputizing his friends to talk to reporters through a crack in the door.
White never went back to work at the magazine. Caught up in media attention (which he shunned but thrilled to), prodded by friends, and perhaps provoked by overly solicitous overtures from McGraw-Hill, White fell under the sway of renown and grievance, and then that of the legal establishment. He got a lawyer, and came to believe that returning to work might signal a degree of mental fitness detrimental to litigation. Instead, he spent eight weeks in Anguilla. Eventually, Business Week had to let him go. The lawsuit he filed, for twenty-five million dollars, against the building’s management and the elevator-maintenance company, took four years. They settled for an amount that White is not allowed to disclose, but he will not contest that it was a low number, hardly six figures...
'Cause you give me something / That makes me scared, alright / This could be nothing / But I'm willing to give it a try / Please give me something
'Cause someday I might call you from my heart
WOW....tHat must be tough.....poor man. 41 hours? Then he must have looked really,pale..
Holy crap... I read the entire 8-page article and watched the video. That article should seriously be split into two - all that information was interesting and amazing to know, but unnecessary.
FRAGILE?!! The man held his mind for 41 hours! Most people in this world (even those without phobias) would have gone insane! His tiny "logical" thoughts of being a good example were pretty darn intelligent compared to what most would have done.A friend of mine showed me this article that was written recently about a man who was trapped in the elevator for 42 hours. Keep in mind that this happened nearly a decade ago. You can see how fragile a person's psyche is.
I don't see how this article and video shows that his mind was fragile.
In fact, this article and video show one thing:
Not elevator's fault, security's and maintenance's fault. BIG FAULT.
He didn't lose his job because he was insane... he reacted extremely rational when he got out (he just never returned, that was the only problem) ! In fact, it was so impossibly rational, you might as well call it irrational! He didn't "lose" the courtcase (not lose... just stalled for four years and price was lowered) because he made some crazy claim... he had a d@mn good case and he probably deserved more than he asked for!
Now his one mistake might've been: shunning the media (if he held a pity-parade for the media, he would've at least gotten some great benefits from it).
In all honesty, the d@mn man did amazingly well. A lot more than what most people could do.
If this topic is talking about anything, it should be about maintenance and security employees. You know, since it's THEIR JOB to know what the hell's wrong with ALL the elevators.
Nothing wrong with White (guy trapped in elevator).
Nothing wrong with colleagues (there are a lot of people who wouldn't notice).
Nothing wrong with elevators (the elevator made a simple malfunction, but still worked fine).
And Nothing wrong with the human psyche.
Last edited by Soshi Kitai; Apr 19, 2008 at 06:48 PM.
That guy has nerves of steel, didn't lose his cool despite being there for 42 hours. Anyone would have lost it in 1 hour being stuck in there. Funny though, he asked for a freaking beer to the maintenance guy
I saw the video last night on Break.com
I think we all have to give this guy props. I know one of my own silly fears is being stuck in an elevator. I dread the idea of that ever happening to me. Honestly, I would have been so furious after being stuck in an elevator for several days, I might have walked out of there arms swinging at whoever I see. Specifically my co-workers and maintenance.
Fragile? I don't think the man was fragile! I mean he held himself together for 41 hours!!!! I would just go insane!!!! and about his job I think he did the most reasonable thing to do: Quit his job. I think his friends should have wondered where was he. I mean... how in the world they didn't realize about the "bad"elevator... and how in the world no one even heard the man who was trapped there!!!! I mean: what the crap?!!??!
Nothing less from Pyro ^_^ Great Sig ^_^ THANK YOU!!!!"show me.... THE BEAST!!!" The Beauty and the Beast movie
I don't think they were his friends. I think they were just his colleagues. Just "office friends".I think his friends should have wondered where was he.
And usually a weekend gone wouldn't mean anything more to them than just "he was sick".
"Before long, an elevator-maintenance team arrived and, over the intercom, coached him through a set of maneuvers with the buttons. White asked what day it was, and, when they told him it was Sunday at 4 P.M., he was shocked. He had been trapped for forty-one hours. He felt a change in the breeze, which suggested that the elevator was moving."I mean... how in the world they didn't realize about the "bad"elevator... and how in the world no one even heard the man who was trapped there!!!! I mean: what the crap?!!??!
I know you're not stating that it's the elevator's fault, I'm just making it clear to everyone else that the ELEVATOR WASN'T THE MAIN PROBLEM... and this is where I'm glad you blamed the maintenance for: IT WAS THE MAINTENANCE'S JOB TO CHECK EVERY ELEVATOR. And even worse: IT WAS SECURITY'S JOB TO CHECK THE CAMERAS.
Yeah, those guys suck.
Poor man, i was unaware of this untill you gave the imformation thanks for the great artical Legend.