I’m running down the steps and pushing through the security lines with only 10 minutes left to get to class. Here’s all I know: I must get to the eighth floor. Should I run up 16 flights of steps – two for each story – and make my legs suffer excruciating pain? Or should I wait five minutes to catch the elevator and have my body and perfectly made lunch crushed by a large group of rowdy students who cram themselves onto the elevator? Decisions, decisions. It was never exactly my choice to be a student in a school that is 11 stories tall, but here I am, waiting in front of the elevator bank, waiting to see what kind of experience waits for me mysterious sliding doors.

The elevators here are a gamble. When the doors open you will either be lucky or you will find yourself in a very compromising and squishy situation. You have just eight minutes to get to class, and you find yourself on the 6th floor, with great need to get to the 11th floor. There are 14 students on the elevator that opens, and I think I can fit in. As I push into the elevator I encounter the same predictable scene. Grunts, rolling eyes, and the heavy breathing can all make the ride uncomfortable but it’s worth it. In my head I’m apologizing to the diminutive freshman behind me getting crushed by our collective unwillingness to climb the stairs. I won’t dare say a word, however. The kids are already irritated and it is already hot enough on the elevator. My not-so-cold breath wouldn’t be a favorable addition to the climate.

To avoid being the one squishing everyone in, you have to rush to the elevator as soon as a class lets out. If you are lucky, you can ensure yourself a comfortable spot. While you can guarantee your space, what’s not guaranteed is a supply of oxygen while inside. Elevators can get stuck, after all, and who knows how long you might be stuck inside. And then there’s this: Finding yourself behind a hulking six-foot tall guy with an overly large backpack. Great, I’ll have to use all my strength and a forceful voice saying “Excuse me!” to get off of this elevator.

Some days I get false hopes. Maybe I’m the only person waiting for the elevator. Then, out of nowhere, a crowd comes running. And they are a riotous bunch, to boot. Now I’m trying to figure out why I put myself through this horrible trip after every class. The doors open and then I hear, “1…2…3… PUSH” “PUSHHHHH!!!!” “Yeah Yeah! I think I can fit!” Any attempt to stop the group from pushing in would result in very unpleasant circumstances for me.

Where elevators are concerned, there are some funny tricks that students play on each other. Here’s one North Atlanta classic. Pranking students will run toward a closed elevator in the elevator bank. The students who are close by and who don’t have a full view are then tricked into believing this is their much-anticipated ride. Ha, ha. Joke’s on them, right? They are high and dry in front of a cruelly closed set of doors.

Here’s another one. If you’re on an elevator and you don’t want anyone else to get on – and crush you in the process – there’s a fine ruse you can attempt. From inside the elevator, be very quiet, make no noise, and stand to the side. This way, a person might not know the elevator has arrived and you and your fellow passengers can enjoy your crowd-free ride.

We will never fully be able to avoid the students who enjoy the crowded rides up and down the elevator shafts of our school. To avoid these gut-wrenching experiences, I highly suggest you make best friends with your anatomical friends Ralph and Larry – that’s you’re right and left legs, in case you didn’t know. Use them. They are your best bet to hike the Mt. Everest of stairs between the ground floor and your next class. Happy hiking, Warriors!