About two years ago, I got stuck in a lift in a shopping centre in Ho Chi Minh City. It was a Sunday afternoon, and I was going up to the cinema on the eighth floor with my girlfriend, Linh.
There were about eight people in the lift, including an older couple, a mother with a baby, and a delivery man carrying a large box. Between the fifth and sixth floors, the lift made a loud clunk, shook slightly and stopped. The lights stayed on, but nothing happened when we pressed the buttons.
At first, everyone laughed nervously. Then the baby started crying, and the atmosphere became more tense. I pressed the emergency button, and after a long wait, a voice said a technician was on the way. It took about forty minutes. During that time, it got very warm, and the older lady started to feel dizzy, so we helped her sit on the delivery man's box. Linh, who's much calmer than me, started singing quietly to the baby, which actually worked, and gradually everyone started chatting. By the time the doors were forced open, we knew each other's names and jobs.
During the experience, I felt quite anxious, mostly because of the heat and not knowing how long it would last. I tried to hide it because I didn't want to worry the others. Afterwards, I felt a strange mix of relief and amusement. We all exchanged numbers and joked that we should have a reunion. I still use lifts, but I'm a little more aware of how quickly ordinary situations can change, and how much one calm person can help a group.