I've never been a big fan of elevators and avoid them as often as possible.
In 1988 there was an ugly incident in the Southeast Financial Center in Miami on the 54th floor involving me having a panic attack of epic proportions.
It's a story that I'm sure the building's security force still remember.
So I just don't do elevators. Which is actually a healthy practise.
But I was on a night shoot with the Island King the other night and because we'd been in a meeting before the shoot I was wearing a really cute pair of boots.
High heeled boots.
When I was in my 20s I wore heels every day and could wear them all day and half the night and then do it all over again the next day.
These days I wear flip flops, my hiking boots or tennis shoes so by the time we got to the night shoot my feet were killing me.
This house was a huge 8,000 sq ft, 3 story monster and I had to help turn on all of the lights and open the blinds.
The Island King was outside turning on the landscaping lights and I went up to the 3rd floor.
This house has an elevator and by the time I finished turning everything on I decided that my feet hurt so bad I'd take the elevator down to the next floor.
1988 flashed through my head but I believed I'd survive the fall in this elevator and frankly that would probably hurt less than my feet did.
So I pushed the button and up the elevator came.
I got in and closed the door and it locked automatically.
I pushed the first floor button and nothing happened.
I tried to open the door but it was still locked.
I pushed more buttons and more nothing happened.
Surprisingly, I didn't feel panic at all. Just a strong desire to get out of the damn elevator and walk down the stairs like I should have done to start with.
But I was stuck.
There is no intercom system and the only phone is bright red with instructions telling me that this phone will automatically connect me to the Fire Dept.
Well, that's the LAST thing I want to happen. It would take years for me to recover from that embarrassment.
So I took my shoes off and started yelling for the Island King.
Yelling at the top of my lungs.
Five minutes later I was sitting on the floor wondering when he would realize I was missing and I saw something out of the corner of my eye.
There was a pocket door between me and the elevator door that I had not noticed.
I broke two nails but finally managed to get that sucker to slide out and when it did the elevator started to move.
I get to the bottom and as the doors opened the Island King comes around the corner and says "Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you"
I called the man we shot the property for the next morning and told him that he might want to send someone out to fix the elevator.
People who pay 10k a week do not want to spend their vacation trapped in an elevator.
And I learned that I need to bring comfortable shoes to change into because elevators and I just don't mix.