I attended a crowded Friday evening event on the fourth floor of a newly-remodeled, century-old building. On the way up, it felt novel to be riding a high-tech elevator in a building that had been there for over a century. After I had been noshing a while, a startled staff member quietly approached and said, “I don’t want to alarm you, but the elevator has broken.”

Internally, I screamed, but calmly instructed her, “We’re going to need the fire department, and quickly.” Suddenly anxious, I sat there puzzled. How were they going to get me and my 300-pound power chair do