When I was about 10 my aunt Miriam used to be a custodian for some building at night. Every once in awhile when my parents would be out my aunt would just take me, my older brother, and younger sister with her. The elevator system they had there was pretty old, so we used to call the elevator up to the second or third floor (it was a three story building) prop open the doors on the first floor and jump into the shaft with the springs, we were small enough so that we'd fit when the elevator came back down to the first floor. We'd latch on to the bottom of the elevator, there were some indents we could get a pretty good grip on, then one of us would call the elevator to the 3rd floor. Then we'd grab onto the pole the elevator runs on, that would be super greased up with oil, and ride that motherfucker down three flights. Damn was that so much fun. It all started from escalating dares between me and my brother, soon enough we figured out the pole, then we loved when Aunt Miriam would take us to work. Except one day she caught us doing it, and that never happened again...

tldr; my brother and I used to constantly slide down a 3 story elevator shaft pole