When my husband and I met (almost fourteen years ago! gasp!), I was Catholic and attending a Jesuit university. It was Lent, and the tradition is to give something up. Feeling rebellious, I wanted to give something up besides chocolate or dessert or boys (that would have been a disaster!). So I gave up elevators.
For me, in this life that I live now, that would not even affect me. At all.
But at the time, I was living in a dormitory, on the fourth floor. I was all young and fit and so it was no big deal. But then, when I met my new love interest, I had to explain to his Southern Baptist self what I was doing, and NO, I was not crazy, just Catholic. I even would tell him he could take the elevator and meet me at the top - he hadn't given up elevators. But he was trying to impress me, I think, so he went along and took the stairs. He would even carry my groceries.
It's a wonder he stuck around. Maybe he only stuck around to harass me about it. Fourteen years later.