I Hate Elevators

In the best of times, I hate elevators. I have a touch of claustrophobia.

I hate heights too. And I hate violent motion. Thrill rides are not for me. The "It's A Small World" ride at Disneyland gives me heart palpitations.

I was watching CNN and seeing Wolf Blitzer talk about the imminent rescue attempt of the Chilean miners and I started feeling shaky. I could not climb into that tube thing and be hauled out of the earth if my life depended on it.

I would have to tell them no thanks. I'd rather just sit down there for the rest of my days than to climb into that capsule. People could send me down water and food from time to time. That would be okay. Also, they could write letters to me because I like to read. And maybe an IPod with batteries, but only if someone besides my husband chooses the music.

Gin would be nice too. Plus a little Maker's Mark whiskey. Oh, yeah, and a couple of outfits. Wearing the same clothes all the time would be unpleasant and would get me feeling "down".

I realize that I would feel isolated after all the other people got pulled out, but I could deal with isolation better than I could with getting into that capsule. Maybe my cat could come down and join me. Pets are calming they say.

Actually, if they had a convict serving a life sentence and he was skinny, they could send him down to join me. I think you have to be skinny to get in that tube in the first place, so I can't request my husband. It would be okay if the convict was a killer because he probably wouldn't kill me. I mean, I'm his only company, right? Plus, they would give us better food than he got in prison but that would be because of me, not him.

I really pray this rescue goes well. I just can't watch it without hyperventilating.