Always take the stairs. Always.
An elevator is a stainless steel black hole of human interaction. Even the strongest interpersonal skills are rendered utterly useless the moment you cross the threshold, turn 180 degrees, and wait for the chime announcing another rider for you to greet with pursed lips and the vacant eyes of the psychopath you became two floors ago.
Honestly, have you ever rushed back onto a crowded elevator because you weren't ready for the fun to be over so soon? No, you careened through the crowd like a death row inmate with a midnight reprieve as soon as the doors slid open and delivered you from the precipice overlooking hell.
At best, an elevator ride lasts 30 arduous seconds while everyone reads the framed safety certificate six times in a row. At worst, you wait an extra 23 seconds because some paranoid jackass at the hotel has added a card reader which bars the elevator from moving until the Canadian couple gets their shit together and remembers to swipe the room key.
They don't shoot musicals in elevators. But stairs--now there's some theater. You take the stairs and you grab fate by the lapels. Run up, run down, tap dance, intercept the love of your life, escape an actual fucking fire. Stairs are the establishing shots of our own lives. These are some of the good ones I've recently encountered in mine.