Dan Among Den

I got on at One, coming back from a late evening stroll through campus. Elevator traffic had died off, so I was able to snag one for just me. I punched the button, leaned against the cool metal wall, and shoved my hands into the loose pockets of my sweats. I was expecting a smooth, uninterrupted ride up to Eleven, but it stopped short at Three.

Three was the Virgin Vault, an all-girls floor where no men were allowed, so I was quite surprised to see two guys step in, the second followed closely by a cute brunette, almost as through linked at the wrist. “I don’t know about this, Steve,” she said.

I took a closer look at Steve and his hapless girl and realized that they really were linked at the wrist. Handcuffs. “Don’t worry, Jen, it’ll only take a few minutes,” Steve replied and nodded to his nameless friend who punched Ten.

Ah, the Men of Ten. Ten was an all-male floor notorious for low brow stunts and equally low GPA’s. Most of them were pledging one fraternity or another, so in addition to inter-house rivalries, they were always being dispatched on one mission of stupidity or another. I casually shifted my way into the corner of the elevator and waited for us to get going again.

Jen was holding up her wrist, taking a closer look at the cuffs. “You’re sure there’s no other way to get these open?”

“Just the key, but I’m pretty sure I know where it is.”

I recognized the handcuffs immediately. They weren’t police caliber. They weren’t even serious security cuffs. They were just toys, but still solid steel toys. The locks on that kind of thing were just a single-pin tumbler, really just a lever that needed to be moved to release the lock catch. Anything narrow and bent could open those: a hairpin, a paperclip, even a decent length fingernail.

How did I know so much about those handcuffs? I had a pair just like them. Why? Well, that’s my own damn business, but I had once learned an important lesson. You never want to be far from the key, so I’d long ago put one of the keys on my key ring. In my pocket, my fingers instinctively searched for it.

Of course, I could have offered up the key immediately, but that was against the elevator rules. Do not initiate contact. Even if others are talking to each other, you do not initiate contact. Eyes front. Do not speak unless spoken to. Anything else shatters the illusion that we’re comfortably riding along to our destination in our own privacy buffer zone. A single word, even eye contact, can instantly transforms us into a herd, packed body to body, trapped in a metal box. So, I just stood there watching Jen out of the corner of my eye, all the while idly fingering her salvation in my pocket.

“Five minutes,” Steve was saying. “Five minutes, tops. I’m sure I can find the key.”

“I still don’t like it,” Jen replied. “Doesn’t anyone else have a key?”

“Come on, Jen, it’s not like…” Steve paused and turned to me. “Hey, you, do you have a key to these handcuffs?”

I looked at them and made full eye contact – I’d been given explicit permission – Steve with his smug grin, Jen with her pleading eyes. “As a matter of fact, I do.” I pulled the key from my pocket, already grasped between thumb and forefinger, ready to go. I took one step, reached for Jen’s wrist, and promptly unlocked her side of the cuffs.

She looked up at the floor display and quickly jabbed Nine, bringing the elevator to as sudden a stop as it could manage. “See you later guys,” she told them, and as the door opened for her, she looked right at me. “Thank you.”

The ride of just one floor, from Nine to Ten, was objectively only thirteen seconds, but Steve’s glare made it seem much longer. “Yeah, thanks,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “thanks a lot.”

I shrugged. “Hey, you asked for the key.”

Nameless Friend prodded Steve towards the open door. “He’s right, Steve. You did ask.”

They exited with unintelligible grumbles from Steve, and I proceeded up to Eleven. A lot of those guys on Ten are Business or Pre-Law. I sometimes think Steve went on to be a lawyer and that I taught him a very valuable lesson that day. When you’re in front of the jury, never ask the witness a question that you don’t already know the answer to.