Though the elevator is rarely a place of solitude (especially during the high traffic times of the morning, and you’re already late), when it does manage to greet you with its emptiness, it’s almost like taking in a deep breath of ganja air: liberating, calming and prone to make you feel a beautiful numbness. And though cinematic tropes have conditioned us to believe it’s a place to have sex, the workplace elevator is the last milieu you would want to do so (mainly because only trolls work in offices).
Instead, it can be the decompression chamber where you’re at last allowed a few minutes of silence (it’s a long way down to the first floor from a Midtown building), the ability to not hear the incessant hum of a printer or the drone on an co-worker’s tales of nothing. In short, it is a meditation chamber that you might want to use during the pre-lunch rush almost as often as use the bathroom to avoid being at your desk.