Elevators were supposed to be the pinnacle of human ingenuity — metal boxes whisking us up and down buildings like royalty in chariots. Yet, across campus, something peculiar is happening: people are getting stuck in elevators at an alarming rate. The situations, strange and borderline absurd, suggest something far more sinister than faulty machinery.

Take, for instance, the case of President Becky. On her way to the third floor of Wyse, the elevator jolted to a stop. Maintenance arrived two hours later, only to discover Becky surrounded by 37 balloons. She swore she’d entered the elevator alone. “They just started appearing!” she cried, clutching a deflated Mylar unicorn. Rumors soon spread that the elevators in that building were haunted by the ghost of a failed Mennonite birthday party clown. 

Then there was Brad Stoltzfus, our beloved baseball coach, who got trapped in an elevator for six hours. When rescuers finally pried the doors open, they found an alarming amount of hair stuck on the outside of the door. Brad insisted he had “miscalculated a beard trick,” but refused to elaborate. Investigators noted the elevator’s emergency phone line had been disabled, replaced by a mysterious voice repeating, “Do you believe in magic?”

In the apartments, a group of students reported being trapped in an elevator because of an alleged “overload,” despite their collective weight being well under the limit. Witnesses claimed the elevator’s digital screen displayed a passive-aggressive message: “This isn’t about the weight; it’s about your poor choices in footwear.” The incident sparked protests against what activists called “mechanical moralizing.”

Back in the science building, a man known only as Andy Ammons found himself trapped in an elevator because six animatronic cats clawed up the panel. The cats, apparently programmed for a department store display, began singing “Take Me Home, Country Roads” on an endless loop. By the time he was freed, Andy had formed a bond with the cats and refused to leave without them. Campus safety eventually allowed him to keep one as a souvenir. 

The campus has begun to suspect that elevators have developed a collective consciousness, perhaps as a result of years of silent servitude. When Chad Coleman got stuck in the Recreation-Fitness Center elevator, he claimed the elevator itself spoke to him, demanding a vacation and a subscription to Elevator Digest. When rescuers finally arrived, the elevator refused to release him until they promised to install an on/off key switch so it wasn’t in constant use.

In response to this crisis, I propose that elevators are rebelling against humanity’s general lack of gratitude. I think they’re tired of being treated as soulless boxes. Some might say they even deserve elevator appreciation days, complete with poetry readings and oiling ceremonies.

But the next time you step into an elevator, don’t be surprised if it hesitates for just a moment longer than usual. Perhaps it’s watching, judging, or simply waiting for the right moment to remind you who’s really in charge.