I wouldn’t say that I have claustrophobia, but I don’t like it when I can’t move.  Too bad; they shoved me in the air shaft, like some sort of heist movie plot, and I rolled along it, wiping every surface with acetone-soaked rags.  I’m fairly certain the fumes went right on through the respirator.  Later, they asked us to just use water, as the pollutant detector was registering Acetone in parts per billion or something.

It never occurred to me to be afraid of falling through the sheet metal to the lab floor, 50 feet below with a pronounced “Padooka.”  Mostly, I just disliked the screws that dug into my flesh as I rolled over the seams.  There was just enough room for me to roll, maybe 2 feet?  And it was just wide enough for me to fit into length-wise.