Financially, I’ve had a hell of a year. I’ve never been rich, but the bills haven’t squeezed me like this before, just to give you a little backstory about what my mental state was like when I headed to the bank today. For the last six months my work has dwindled to less than half-time as the bakery I work for is stuck in an extended move situation that’s dragged on and on. It sucks. And to top it off unemployment is still deciding whether or not I qualified for the first month. So, trying to keep my head above water and sweating stress, I walked all the way to the nearest bank that’s about two miles away in the heart of the city. That’s where I had the experience that I’m about to tell you about.
One of the really cool things about my city is that it has a vast network of connected sky bridges connecting pretty much all the buildings in the downtown metro, so you could walk from one end to the other without stepping outside. Theoretically, since there are apartments connected all the way to the mall, a person could live there without ever having to leave. It’s liminal as hell, and whole sections are nearly abandoned, but I love it. When I was younger and had nowhere to be, I’d wander for hours after my classes exploring, trying to get to know every bit of it. Sometimes I’d plop down and write poetry in the middle of the walkway, looking out over the city at the outside people, wondering what their lives were like.
So I was nostalgic, wondering if I did something wrong in my life to end up where I was at, walking those same corridors I’d gotten to know decades ago. I just hoped there was something I could do at the bank to help me out for one more month even though my credit card is maxed out. That’s all I need.
I’m the sort of person who gets caught in my own head a bit. Like, I have a foot in the door of what’s happening on the outside, but I can kind of check out while I’m thinking of things. And this is especially true when I’m stressed. I get this feeling in my head that’s like this tight buzzing. Really uncomfortable and difficult to describe. Maybe it’s some sort of migraine. So when I got to the elevator I wasn’t one hundred percent present, but I thought I pressed the right button.
I’ve always really liked the elevators in the sky crossing buildings of downtown simply because they’re all coded to have a floor “1½” for the sky crossing corridors on what’s actually the second floor. It’s a weird little nonsensical system. So, as I was in my head I thought I pushed the 1 (main floor) button, but the elevator didn’t stop there. It kept going down and the button pad showed a -1½ button lit up as my destination. I’d never noticed that as even an option. And the thing is, it took an odd amount of time to get down there. Not like a journey to the center of the earth or anything, but a solid minute I bet. I’m practically unemployed and the bank wasn’t closing for hours, so I figured what the heck, I’ll do some exploring, pretend I’m in college again and that there’s adventure to be had and a life of purpose sprawled out somewhere in the future.
The doors opened to a long corridor extending in both directions. I was guessing at that point this was some sort of office space. It made enough sense, if there were offices above there must be some below. What’s that bible quote, “As above, so below?” Let me just say, I really hope the afterlife isn’t a cubicle. When I tried that kind of job I was miserable. My life felt like it meant nothing. But pulling fresh ginger cookies out of the oven, selling them to people looking for a tolerable start to the morning — it’s not glamorous or well-paid work, but it feels like I’m creating actual value with my life. This long hallway was bland as hell: walls painted off-white, trim green carpeting, and unlabeled doors on each side of me. I was flooded with this sense of utter meaninglessness.
Nobody stopped me. In fact, it felt odd that I didn’t see a single person there. I got close to one of the doors and tried to peer through the frosted glass. I couldn’t see through. So I put my ear against the glass pane thinking I could at least hear if anything was going on in there. Nothing. But strangely the glass was warm, almost uncomfortably hot to the touch in fact. Maybe the heater fan was pointed straight toward it or something, I rationalized. And it wasn’t so weird that the office spaces would be vacant, was it? I wouldn’t rent one of these office spaces down in the basement when the whole city has vacant floors of offices with windows and natural lighting getting through. So maybe the space is being kept lighted and unlocked for some legacy tenants who’ve been renting since the 70’s when every business wanted to be in the heart of the city.
I kept going and followed the hallway around a turn. As would be expected, it was the same sort of bland nothing. It reminded me of some of the more labyrinthine sections of the sky bridges above. Occasionally as I walked I’d check another door to see if I could see or hear anything. I came to a hallway that extended in either direction and turned whichever way I felt in the moment, and this happened a few times without me really thinking about getting lost. My mind had floated off into a bit of a daze. I zigged and zagged thinking about the possibility of discovering where this place led, or anything about it. Maybe there would be a placard somewhere about the businesses located inside.
This is how I used to be — I used to be open and excited about finding anything new. Like, as a kid, my friend and I would wander around the neighborhood and finding even a log with roly poly bugs underneath felt like some huge discovery. And I’d tell my parents, super elated for no real reason, and my dad would explain that roly polys are super important for the environment because they filter out heavy metals from the soil. I don’t think that part of my brain had turned on for a decade, so maybe my subconscious is what lulled me into that nearly daydream state, vying to reawaken the kid in me. I could use a break from the grown up world, that’s for sure. Every day I pretty much spend all my energy either doing things I don’t want to do, or telling myself no. No, I can’t go get coffee, it’ll give me heart burn. No, I can’t stop and get a shot of whiskey at the fancy new whiskey den on my walk home from work, it’s expensive and that’s a bad habit to form. No, I can’t sleep in. No, I can’t stay up until two in the morning.
Or maybe I was lulled into the daydream by the place itself. It was so bland that it was like being in a sensory deprivation tank.
Whatever the reason, I kept making turn after turn without giving thought to the idea of getting back out of there. And then I realized that buzzing ache in my head had gotten to the point where it was hard to tune out. It happens like that. I’ll push the feeling down subconsciously until it’s too much for me to ignore, and then I’m immediately pissed at myself that I didn’t deal with it earlier. Dealing with it usually means going home and taking some ibuprofen, and laying down with a cold pack on my forehead weighted down by a pillow that blocks all light. And after an hour or two I feel good enough that I can eat, drink some water, and take a bath, and I’m all the way better. Anyways, that’s the point I hit, and from past experience I knew it was going to get close to unbearable really quickly.
That’s when I stopped, looked around, and realized I was lost. I’d taken so many turns without even thinking about the idea of getting out. And what sort of faustian architect designed this place? How was I still wandering in the same building? I didn’t know precisely how far I’d gone, but it had to have been easily a few blocks worth of meandering. Maybe it was less, but if I was being honest with myself I felt like I had walked at least half a mile down there, and the geometry of that doesn’t seem plausible.
Okay, I told myself, I was probably only walking in circles. I could find my way out and get home before the buzzing became much worse. Backtracking, I took the first few turns confidently. But every hallway was exactly the same, each one lined with those same doors. After a minute I told myself I was being ridiculous, it was time to knock on a door and ask for help. So I knocked on the next door I came to, and surprisingly since I hadn’t seen anyone, I heard muffled talking behind it. I couldn’t make out quite what they were saying, but there were definitely people back there. “Hello,” I said, “I wandered in here and need some help getting back to the elevator.”
More muffled voices came from behind the door, but no response. I tried opening it, but it was locked, and the handle was hot to the touch like the glass. Locked.
I tried another door and was met by the same exact response, muffled voices that wouldn’t even come to the door so I could hear them clearly. Until then I don’t think it had donned on me how weird the situation was. I thought this was some regular office building, and I only had to get someone to point me in the right direction and I’d be out and on my way in a jiffy. But the hallways went on and on and I hadn’t seen a single person, and yet they were occupied. At that point I barely cared, I wanted out. I had a flashback to when I was a kid and I got lost in the wooded area near my house, surrounded by tremendous pines that towered and blocked out the sky that encroached with night. I was probably three or four years old and that was the most afraid I’ve ever been, screaming for someone to find me and tell me where I was. That’s exactly how it felt being stuck down there. And some wild thing in the back of my brain took over, just like it did when I was little in that tiny suburban outcropping of woods: I ran.
I passed hallways and hallways, the trim green carpeting dampening the sound of me feet, as my mind buzzed louder and louder and I felt sick. If I didn’t get out of there, if I didn’t get home soon I was going to throw up. I knew it. I stopped at another door and knocked, pleading with someone to come help me. I banged on it. I rapped on the glass and it actually burned my hand. I yelled. It’s downtown and maybe everyone assumed I was just some weirdo that wandered in off the street, which admittedly I guess I was, but I can’t imagine being in a situation in my life when someone was pleading for such simple help behind my door, and not at least coming close to where they could hear me and responding. How could it be that every single person behind these doors ignored me like that? I banged on door after door, and all I heard were those muffled sounds of voices talking to each other.
My head pounded, and I kept going down hallway after hallway, until I was delirious. That’s when I came to it, the thing that truly freaked me out and has left me wondering what in the world was happening down there. Everything else I can explain away. But I came to the end of a hallway, the first to end in a dead end, and there was a door that wasn’t like any of the others. This one was a flat, black door, and instead of a frosted glass pane it had a portrait on it. The portrait was of me as I was stepping out of the elevator. It wasn’t just a photograph, but a real painting. I could see the brush strokes. For a minute I stood there, my mind now roaring worse than I think it ever had before. My mouth hung open and I just felt sick. Why would there be a portrait of me down there? How? I’d only been down there for what, twenty minutes?
I turned around, fell to my hands and knees, and wretched until my empty stomach threw up bile. Then I got up and opened the door. Right in front was the atrium of the elevator. I wasn’t even thinking at that point. Something in me broke at the complete and utter madness of what was happening, but I staggered to the elevator, got in, and pressed the button for the main floor.
I got out to the street and called an uber, and rode home without saying a word. My head was a mess and I’m sure I looked as out of sorts as I felt. But I managed to get in my house, take some ibuprofen, and bury my head under the pillow with the cold pack until I passed out.
The experience already feels fuzzy. Maybe it was my mental state at the time or maybe I’ve already started blanking it out. I’m okay. I took my bath, got some leftover pizza in my stomach, and have had some time to sit with it all. Now that I’m feeling better I think I’m even more dumbstruck as to what in the world was up with that place. Does anyone have any ideas?
Also, I still have to go to the bank again tomorrow. I could go a few miles out of my way and go to a different branch, but I’m also so curious to figure out what is up with that place. If I went in knowing how confusing it was I don’t think I’d get lost again.