A lift was being worked on as I waited for the other car to arrive. I'd done something monumentally stressful and my anxiety was high. From within the well of the worked on shaft (1) came noises of industrial ear filth, grinding or cutting of metal.The car took ages and the sound triggered fight flight so I stood, tears welling, breathing shallow as the Disaster Area level of insane auditory abuse laid down some phat beats.Then into the car, facing forward, trying not to distress other peeps with my distress as a near-crying, bearded, breathy and facially scarred man. That's some freaky emote to lay on strangers in a confined space. Later I discharged body liquid in the form of sweat from lots of walking and salt water got in my eyes.You just can't win some days.(1) Shaft!