In Between Floors (no, really)

As promised, here is a post about elevators. More specifically, mine. Mine with nine people in it. Kids, don't try this at home. Seriously.

I can't believe I ever get worked up about getting older. Because clearly I am still immature enough to think jamming six-foot tall Swedish dudes and their instruments into a space that was never (ever, ever) meant for that is a good idea.

I could get totally philosophical and try to tie this into my post about being in between, well, everything, but that would be too obvious, no? And I think you probably just want to see the video. Because OMG it is hilarious. (hilarious NOW. In hindsight. Like, after we're out).

I suppose it is worth noting that while, despite what the video shows, this was pretty stressful while it was going down (what you can't see here is one of us nearly fetal on the floor freaking out from claustrophobia and the fear of severed limbs - there was a lot of reaching outside the cab and pulling and tugging things because that's what the building super told us to do....so glad our fetal friend confessed this AFTER we were out.) So it was a stressy hour of waiting and waiting and waiting, but in the end it was a friend who rescued us (he did what?? with what??)

Parallels? Please? Oh please be.