Elevator trap muffles claustrophobic siren at LAX immigration
Tiger, Arrow and (the amazing) Azelle
Tom and Melika brought a stroller for Azelle. When we arrived at Club Med, it became clear that it would be useful to have a stroller for Arrow as well. Tiger, surveying the situation (a few hills between the room and the restaurant) decided that also needed a stroller. And not just any stroller, he wanted a
“ … fast stroller, Dan. One that wins! Every time!” Tiger asserted.
His Dad, aware of Tiger’s competitive streak, explained that ..
“You have the Mach 5 stroller, Tiger. It is super fast.”
‘The stroller is fast because the pusher is fast,” I thought as Arrow and I finished second in the dash to dinner.
One evening, Nazy and I decided to take Tiger and Arrow to the restaurant to get milk for the ‘go to sleep’ bottle. We headed out, but decided to take the elevator on the way back to the room. Everything went well until, two feet from the exit, the elevator got stuck.
It was about 10 PM. I banged and kicked — to no avail. I noticed It was getting stuffy, and, accordingly, I pulled the emergency button which initiated a very loud siren. Tiger freaked out.
“Freaked out, Dan?” Nazy interjects. “He was simply asking for his Mama.”
“Yes. Loudly and repetitively, Nazy.” [Loudly and repetitively. Loudly and repetitively!]
“Arrow was remarkably calm and unfazed.”
“Just as unfazed as the Club Med staff who, within hearing distance of the siren…”
“Hearing distance, Dan? Every city in Mexico was within hearing distance. It was loud! That’s why Tiger, two feet away, reacted the way he did.”
“The local staff didn’t do anything.”
“Arrow was very calm.”
“Arrow didn’t realize the magnitude of the problem. It was getting hot and steamy.”
“Luckily, Dan,” Nazy continues, “I thought of calling Melika.”
“Yes, dear.” I replied. “More luckily, I remembered to enable international calls before we left the USA,” I thought.
Melika, with persistence and panache, was able to find someone who was willing to call the mechanic. We were extricated after about 20 minutes.
Tom persuaded Tiger to use the elevator again the next day, so he conquered his fear. However…
“Now I’m afraid of being trapped in a defective elevator with a claustrophobic four year old,” I thought as I carried him up the stairs to US Immigration on the trip home.
Afterwards
We were back in Santa Barbara when we heard a siren. In Santa Barbara, that usually means that a fire engine is racing to a potential wildfire. But this time …
“Do you hear that Tiger?” I asked. “Someone is stuck in an elevator.”
“Dan!” Tiger responded. “We couldn’t hear a siren all the way from Mexico. It’s a fire truck.”
End Afterwards
The elevator was exciting — but some in our party (Tom and Melika) decided to try their luck at..
“… trapeze?” I asked. “You guys took a trapeze lesson?”
“I had trouble getting my legs all the way up.” Melika replied. “But Tom..”
Nazy and I decided to stick to things closer to the surface of the planet. We swam with the dolphins. We went on a sunset cruise, via trimaran, with everyone. Another night, while watching the sunset, we had a wonderful dinner in nearby Zihuatanejo. (And, as an aside, we could enjoy beautiful sunsets right from our hotel room.)
The flights home were smooth and trouble-free. However, in addition to the normal logistical challenges associated with international travel, we were concerned because…
“Darius says that the ‘president’ has closed the border.” I explained to Nazy. “Darius thinks that we may be trapped.”
“Dan..”
“We’re probably safe,” I continued. “We’re not in a caravan. And we’re landing in Los Angeles. They only shoot tear gas into Mexico.” “However,” I thought. “We have children with us, so we’re a likely target.”
We arrived at Terminal 2, at 9:30 on Sunday evening. Immigration services in Terminal 2 cease operations at 9:00PM on Sunday, so had to take a bus to the Bradley International Terminal. Since it was the heaviest travel day of the year, most of the people who work at LAX had the day off. We stood in a very slow queue while the only operational bus filled up and left without us. (Four times!) We were finally at the front of the queue when a couple of airline crews arrived to commandeer the next bus. Naturally, I was patient.
“What kind of sh..”
“Dan! Don’t talk like that.” Nazy interrupted. “And don’t throw your carryon at the bus driver.”
“I’m throwing it at the pilot who took my place on that bus.” I replied.
The good news? By the time we finally got through the arrival formalities, our luggage had been delivered. But traffic outside of the airport was snarled. It took another hour to move the 1 mile to collect our car. The drive home, however, was fast.
Back in Santa Barbara, we took the boys to school on Monday morning. Arrow was having a bad hair day — the kind of hair day that I haven’t faced in decades.
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Snorkeling