Crazy Spiral Staircases--or--How to Know If You're a Big Dope

We live in the 13th arrondisement.  It's a long story why, but suffice it to say that there are good and bad things about the place we rented.  An interesting part is that we're up high--on the 27th floor.  Our building is served by four elevators.  Two serve the 1st through 16th floors and two handle 17 and up.

One day, our elevator started malfunctioning (while we were in it).  After successfully, I think, fighting that adrenaline-tinged omigod-I'm-going-to-die-today-in-this-elevator-with-my-kids feeling, we made it to the ground floor.  After a day of touring, we came home to discover only one working elevator.  Not a surprise.

That was 10 days ago.  It's still not working.

The morning my husband left early to take his mom to the airport for her return flight, he sent me a text.  "Elevator is out.  Just dropped Mom off.  Shopping for shirts.  Text me when you're ready for lunch, I'll meet you and the girls somewhere."

Wait, what?  Elevator is OUT?  The remaining one?  You gotta be kidding me.

Dreading it, I hopped into the shower, got the kids ready and steeled my nerves for what was to come.  But, hizzah!, the elevator was fine.  When we met for lunch, my husband said he and his mother had walked down to the 16th floor and caught the elevator from the other side.

DUH!  I hadn't thought to do that.  I figured I'd just walk down 27 flights of stairs (well, 28, they call the ground floor the Rez-de-Chausee) here with the kids.

Here, for your enjoyment, is what we faced.

We did once have to walk down to the 16th on this bad boy, heading out to dinner.  But thankfully, the elevator was back running by the time we'd finished eating.  Whew!  I wouldn't be able to handle 28 flights of this!