It was a large group -- about forty people -- invited to cocktails in the penthouse apartment on the sixteenth floor with a nice view of the city (not New York).

The sole elevator came down to the lobby to carry a second group to the penthouse. We watched as the elevator loaded. It looked a little too crowded. We weren't going to make it on for this trip and would wait. The doors closed but the elevator did not move. The doors wouldn't open.

Our friends were stuck in the elevator. We called for help -- 911 and the elevator company. Our host, who was greeting us in the lobby, found the tool that fits in the little hole in the elevator door and we tried to get the door open -- to no avail.

We told them through the closed door that help was on the way. There was not much more that we could do.
Someone suggested walking up the sixteen flights. Some people swore that they wouldn't get on the elevator even if it were repaired. So why not walk now? After all, there wasn't anything we could do and we were missing out on the cocktails and hors d’oeuvres. The consensus was to forego the drinks in favor of support and empathy for our trapped companions. Although it occurred to me that the people already upstairs and enjoying drinks didn't seem concerned that the rest of the group hadn't joined them.

After about an hour, a team from the fire department arrived and our colleagues were finally rescued. Hugs, and more hugs.

The elevator service man arrived and reset the elevator. He would ride with the first few groups that wanted to go up. No overcrowding this time...and, despite the assertions of a few minutes before, only one person refused to get into the elevator and took the stairs instead.