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Last Friday afternoon, not even 5 minutes after stepping off the elevator in my apartment building while coming up from the laundry room, the electricity suddenly shut off.


Getting stuck in an elevator is one of those things that coincides with my fear of ever experiencing the joy of a Brazilian bikini wax.

So thank god it happened AFTER I got off the elevator.

I knew something was up when the fire alarms also started blaring through the hallways; causing my ears to turn inside out and hemorrhage.

Normally, I never leave the apartment when the fire alarms go off in my building because it’s something that occurs rather frequently and ends up being a false alarm. I traditionally just stick my head out of the apartment door, sniff for smoke, and then go back to whatever I was doing. In the past 9 years, I would say the fire alarms go off at least once every few months because of mechanical malfunctions.

But because this time the electricity had shut off, I thought I’d be on the safe side and get the hell out of my apartment because I didn’t want to have to reenact Faye Dunaway in a scene from the movie Towering Inferno.

So I grabbed my laptop, some clean underwear, and my wallet, and then proceeded to walk down 21 flights of stairs.

After I got to the lobby level, I discovered from the doorman that a generator in the basement had exploded and caught fire. The place was riddled in total pandemonium. All I kept hearing was, “MOVE! HURRY!….GET OUT OF THE BUILDING….HURRY!”

As I stepped out the front door, I noticed that the street was covered in fire trucks, fire hoses, and firemen. We were immediately ushered to the opposite side of the street to be out of harms way. The whole sidewalk was jam packed with tenants, all staring up at the apartment building looking for smoke.

About 25 minutes later, the property manager walked over and informed us that the fire was safely extinguished and that as soon as the firemen thoroughly checked the whole building, we were permitted to go back inside. However, the bad news was that we would have NO electricity until they could get someone over to install a new generator, and she had no idea how long that would take.

I decided to take my laptop to Starbucks and sit there for a few hours; responding to emails and visiting blogs.

3 hours later I walked back to my apartment, only to find out that the electricity was not on. So I grabbed a sandwich from a local deli and walked up 21 flights of stairs.

*note: I had to stop on the 17th floor and compose myself because I was so out of breath, I would have given my left nut for a tank of oxygen.

After eating my club sandwich, I didn’t want to just sit my apartment and wait for the electricity to be restored, so I once again grabbed my laptop and walked down ANOTHER 21 flights of stairs and then went back to ANOTHER Starbucks, where I sat and drank ANOTHER cup of coffee so I could use their wifi.

Finally at 7:30 pm, I went back to my apartment where I discovered the building still dark and was told that the electricity would probably not be back on for a least another 2 hours.

After sitting in the lobby and contemplating on what to do, I opted to walk up ANOTHER 21 flights of stairs, light some candles in my dark apartment, and then sit on the floor and meditate in the lotus position; repeating the mantra, “Please let the electricity come back on. Please let the electricity come back on.”

Approximately 30 minutes later I slowly opened my eyes and saw my digital alarm clock blinking…9:15, 9:15, 9:15.

Alleluia….we had electricity!!

Thank you Benjamin Franklin!


Ask me how many days it took for the pain in my ACHING calve muscles to subside.

21 flights of stairs, 4 times.

Have an electrifying weekend everyone!


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