On the count of three, everybody jump! One, two…” It started way too early for a Sunday morning at the beginning of September last year. Allie Banwell, PC ’17, then a freshman, and her FroCo group gathered for yet another meeting. You remember that season — daily meetings full of awkwardness and bluebook banter over Yorkside pizza or chocolate chip pancakes.
That day’s meeting held promise of slightly more excitement, as the destination had moved from the FroCo suite to Yale Health for a mandatory tour. Their FroCo, Diallo Spears, PC ’14, was confident, funny, energetic, and pretty laid-back. He led his pack of freshman past Payne Whitney, where the freshman took their first glance at the infamous Yale Health: The Death Star? The Black Pearl? Once considered the most beautiful health center in the country? The Grove Street Cemetery Prep School?
The tour was boring, begging to be forgotten along with most of the other mandatory meetings and tours that inundate Camp Yale. Almost. Then they stepped into the elevator — all fifteen of them.
It was just an idea: What would happen if everybody jumped at once? Banwell impulsively counted to three. They jumped, landing in unison with a thump. A mechanical buzzing loomed over some nervous laughter in the following seconds.“No one thought it was actually going to break the elevator,” said Julia Butts, PC ’17, when asked why she jumped.
As their FroCo pressed the emergency button and called for help, the group started shifting their feet, laughing nervously, smiling at one another. The group had met only a few days before, so everyone was still using their best manners and trying ooze as much coolness as possible in front of their new peers. “It could have been one of those situations where people were getting really upset or annoyed,” said Butts. “But everyone was really chill about it. No one was panicking.”
Someone told a story about how someone else they knew had gotten stuck in an elevator once. Someone else mentioned the benefit that no one was claustrophobic. Banwell said she kept on apologizing for counting down. “Call Me Maybe” streamed from someone’s iPhone. Diallo just laughed. They collectively decided to keep the whole “jump on the count of three” detail a secret if the authorities questioned them.
Twenty-five minutes later, the fire department arrived to get the elevator running again. When the door opened, they were only three feet or so from the ground floor, and hopped out easily.
Walking out of Yale Heath, something had changed among the survivors. “Our Froco group definitely got a lot closer, physically and emotionally,” Banwell said. “And we got a good selfie out of it.” Good enough to get 169 likes on Overheard at Yale. It seems like the Death Star has a bright side after all.
–Graphics by Kai Takahashi