The Slight Emergency

So, I was on my way downstairs to meet the group for dinner with the local Jewish community, and I got in the elevator. And I started going down. And then I stopped. And I was in there alone and I wasn’t moving and the doors weren’t going to open, so I pressed the call button. And someone answered in German, and I said, “I’m stuck in the elevator,” and they said one moment, and then someone else came, and I said, again, “I’m stuck in the elevator.” Eventually, my tour guide got on the help phone with me and we chatted, but I stayed really calm, just really bored the whole time. The whole time was 25 minutes, which feels somewhat like a century when you’re alone, trapped in a broken elevator, in Germany. Luckily, or unluckily, I had once before been trapped, while in Madrid in 2008, with 14 other people, and we were the reason it broke. The fire department came that time and hoisted us out of the foggy, claustrophobic mess. By contrast, this 2013 mishap was sort of relaxing, and not very stressful. By the time I was free, the elevator had shut on and off twice, and I determined I had been at floor 2.5.

Things really got interesting when I tried to complain to the manager. She didn’t speak any English and did not make eye contact with me when replying to my translator. She didn’t really apologize, and I was annoyed at the lack of customer service. I was trapped in her elevator. It was unpleasant. I didn’t pay for a room in order to spend my vacation in a broken elevator. I deserved reparation. This logical sentiment is apparently very American – the customer is not always right and while I wasn’t wrong, I also wasn’t going to be special in her mind. She took down my name and room and I thought nothing of it besides frustration with both physical and language barriers cramping my style.

My translator, my trip coordinator and myself arrived late to the Dresden Synagogue but luckily, the tour of the sanctuary hadn’t happened yet, so I got to see it. The same architect who made the notoriously awkward-looking Jewish Museum, Daniel Liebskind, designed this building after the Tabernacle. It looks more like a security vault with knightly chain metal curtains hanging all around you. It’s interesting and simplistic and thought-provoking, but I wouldn’t say it’s pretty. After the tour, we uncomfortably ran out of questions to ask our guide, a 20-year-old student who was at University in Leipzig and home for the holidays. Originally from the FSU, she described the community as 95 percent non-German with 90 percent of that pool speaking Russian. The rabbi doesn’t speak Russian, and he’s liberal. The Russians tend to identify as traditionally Orthodox, but mostly don’t come to services. The German converts are there the most, and genders sit separately but there’s an organ played. It’s not a conventional community to say the least. When asked about local anti-Semitism, she said, “It’s difficult to say, you can’t look into everyone’s head.” So, the visit was…inconclusive on all fronts.

We enjoyed an incredible three-course kosher meal at the community center, where I sat with three 

community members, from Moldova, the Ukraine and Russia who had all emigrated to Dresden at different times. After demolishing the roasted vegetables, salmon, gnocchi, and pistachio ice cream with figs, a married couple offered to take us to see the fireworks for the end of the Dresden City Festival. We walked onto a bridge with an amazing view of the classical architecture skyline across the river. In this prime viewing location, I saw the best fireworks show of my life. We went for a drink with our new acquaintances after but many of us were too exhausted from the excellent day. I was largely drained from my unexpected elevator mishap. But, mishaps happen. And we keep calm and carry on. So, I carried on right to my room and hosted a small pajama party with four guests who shared Rittersport chocolate (it’s like eating fresh melting nutella as a candy bar) and a surprise, too! The hotel had left no note, but a plate of fruits and a bottle of orange juice and water as a ‘Sorry you got stuck in the elevator’ present, presumably. The little display was heartwarming because I felt pretty defeated from my failed communication with the manager. My company and conversation was further heartwarming and I slept soundly through the night.