This article by Karen O. Krakower seems a concise, easy-to-understand course on elevator etiquette.
The UPs and DOWNs of Elevator Etiquette
Humans. You gotta love us.
We'll bear-hug a total stranger at a winner football game, but jump whole aisles before we touch elbows with one at the movies.
We'll go to lunch with a friend because we're "just dying to visit" but spend the hour on our cell phones cackling with someone else.
So, it should come as no shock that we'll gallantly hold open the lobby door for you, even in the rain, but we'll leave you in a swirl of dust at the elevator doors.
Zen and the Elevator
Elevator behavior is woven from snips and bits of other social etiquette codes. Unlike salad fork placement or wearing white after Labor Day, there is no Emily Post chapter on elevator etiquette or formal training from our parents.
It's not written down anywhere.
There isn't even a support group for it.
Like a secret tribal custom or a genetically encoded response, we just instinctively know how to act in an elevator.
But that doesn't mean we always do it.
Elevator Etiquette: 101
Elevator etiquette is predicated upon basic courtesy for those with whom you're about to have a brief, but close, encounter in a moving box. It is the closest that you'll ever be with a room full of strangers, with the exception of jail.
Many of us-male, female, introvert, extrovert, high-strung, laid-back-feel grossly uncomfortable in that box. Social skills get ditched on the ground floor. We suddenly freeze if someone utters "good morning" between floors. And if we make eye contact; well, let's just not go there.
This is what we're supposed to do:
When our elevator arrives, we should stand back to let others empty out, before charging forth to claim our personal space. If we see someone sprinting and panting to reach the elevator, we should hold the elevator for them and actually make space for them to enter.
If we are going to the tip-top floors, we should stand in the back to let the lower-floor folk disembark without snagging their sweaters on our Franklin Coveys or impaling them with our umbrellas.
We should smile as people enter; we should nod or wish them a good day when they leave. Or we should stare intently at the numbers as they change, with absolute fascination. (Example: "Wow. Look-the 2 is now a 3.")
We should face forward at all times to optimize space and minimize injury from slinging backpacks, purses and steaming Starbucks.
We should exit quickly, quietly-and in numerical order.
Most of us do observe these simple courtesies of elevator kindness. Some of us though are a little hard of hearing when it comes to non-verbal communication going on in our little circle-make that little square -of elevator friends.
Elevator Body Language
The elevator is a microcosm of what's going on "out of the box." And our personalities shrink to fit that 4x 4 square. Our speeding ticket, our late reports and morning tiff with our spouses all join us in that box. Sometimes we feel like greeting each other. Sometimes, we don't.
Whether we know it or not, we give off very loud clues about ourselves without ever opening our mouths. Every time we step on an elevator, we are "in conversation" and we are conveying a message just by the way we stand. "Hearing" the message is part of elevator etiquette.
If you enter an elevator and the only other person inside has arms folded tightly across his chest, is staring straight ahead, is plastered into a corner or stationed right by the door, chances are they'd prefer not to engage.
"Body language is key to human interaction. In the confined space of an elevator, where our personal boundaries are overlapping, awareness of one another's 'message' can lessen discomfort," says Sherry Wilson, director of the UT Employee Assistance and Work/Life Programs.
Space: The Final Frontier
And guess how much space we Americans need for personal comfort? About the same square footage, per person, as that of the average elevator, psychologists say. So just having another human existing in our space is a subconscious invasion. Our need for space and our reactions to "trespassing" renders us socially inept, at least between floors.
The hotel was only 3 stories high but I used the elevator rather than the stairs because they were located in the pool area that was filled with people. She complained about there being a "mangy animal" on "her" elevator. Everyone else we encountered during that weekend was cool about it. Some were scared (even though I had her sit between me and the wall) and some were fascinated and wanted to ride with her and pet her. Needless to say everyone let us out of the elevator before entering. 
(I even suspect some of them would push the "close doors" button when they saw someone coming..)
I understand I may not be able to do that all the time, but I make sure I do it as often as possible, like at the mall, my school, a hotel. 
