Christiana East Tower, for those of you who don’t know, has seventeen floors. That’s two more than its counterpart West, and (I’m willing to bet, at least) more than any other building on campus. Living as I do on the fifteenth floor of East, I basically have three options. The first is to properly sync up the teleport we’re hiding in our bathroom (and it doesn’t meet the room regulations, so shh); the second is to get in shape by racing up and down thirty flights of stairs (two flights each to get between floors); the third is to take the elevator.

And while that third option may seem the most attractive at first, it means squirming and shifting in the irrationally painful aura of the elevator ride itself. No matter how many people cram themselves into the elevator (and I’ve been in one with as many as eleven), I think they somehow all silently agree not to speak a single word to the person smushed into their ribcage or nudged into the back corner for fear of actual social interaction. Furthermore, as people start to get out, those remaining in the elevator shift into formations that allow them to stay as far away from the other people as possible.

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Common ways to avoid speaking in the elevator include staring pointedly at your phone, fiddling with your keys, watching the light over the doors move from floor to floor, or jamming your thumb down on the ‘door close’ button every time someone gets even their toe out into a hallway. It might just be the study of silence I’ve been conducting in my Honors ENGL394 class, but to me, this is both remarkable and a little bit saddening.

Elevators are a normal part of life, and even if there’s someone who’s so petrified of them that he or she is reduced to silence upon the usage of one, surely not all of us are plagued with this affliction. Why, then, are we reduced to silence upon entering an elevator? Feel free to comment your reasoning below.

Personally, the next time I get on the elevator (which should be in less than a few hours, in all honesty), I intend to start a conversation, no matter how small, with the people standing in there with me. We are all people, and I don’t think there’s any reason why friendliness shouldn’t be the norm. So if you’re in the East elevator and some caffeinated brunette starts chatting with you… hello.

Unless you’re the guy who takes the elevator from the first floor to the third floor. You get the silent treatment.

~Claire Davanzo

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