\"I\'ve never had an elevator break down on me,\" I said to the brown-eyed, auburn-haired stranger, I was riding it with on 450 Sutter Street, San Francisco.
\"Shh, shh,\" she admonished, laying a finger on her lips. \"Don\'t say it out loud. This one\'s already broken down twice.\"
\"What did you do, then?\" I asked with morbid curiosity, a die-hard suburbanite visiting San Francisco for the day and looking for some tame adventure. Being rescued from a stuck elevator would qualify.
She shrugged and exited the elevator with rapid strides. I continued on to my floor and was a little disappointed when I arrived without any upheaval. The lingering disappointment remained with me after I\'d been examined by my doctor and found \'healthy as a horse.\' Time to go home to placid Pleasanton.
