Phone Home

Over the weekend I kept hearing the sound of a telephone call being placed, the beeps reminding me of when I first had dial up service to the Internet. I couldn't figure out where it was coming from...was it my cell? my husband's Blackberry? the computer? our neighbors? And then finally it dawned on me, it was the elevator!

As Parisian elevators go, ours is pretty typical. It's not as charming as some since it lacks the wrought iron gates and wood paneling you find in many Haussmanian buildings. Just big enough for three people who don't mind close quarters, it does the job and has never once gotten stuck between floors. Still, it does have a button to push in case you're in distress and a speaker where presumably you can talk to someone somewhere who will send out the troops. My confidence has sagged now though, knowing that the elevator has been placing calls for four days and so far, no one has picked up. So just who is the elevator calling? ET? Wall-E? Speed Rabbit Pizza? It's a mystery for sure.