I don’t know when I first developed an irrational fear of heights. I remember climbing trees when I was little and looking out from the top of the Empire State Building when I was eleven-going-on-twelve and I don’t think those things bothered me.
When I was a student at Stanford, I went up in a little plane (a Cessna-something-or-other) on more than one occasion to help my future brother-in-law keep his piloting hours up. A few years later I eschewed the elevator and climbed to the top of the Eiffel Tower, the better to see the vistas of Paris. I don’t remember being especially scared on those occasions either.
But somewhere along the line, all that changed and acrophobia set in. Flying is a challenge these days, even in a commercial plane, and forget those glass elevators that crawl up and down the outsides of buildings. My palms sweat just writing about them.
So, the other day when Tucker Wachsmuth and I were carried aloft in the bucket truck – forty-five feet to the top of the church spire – it didn’t even occur to me to take my camera along. It was all I could do to let go of that protective railing long enough to pose with the paintbrush for “the finishing touch” picture. Whether Damian (who was photographing for the paper) got such a picture, I don’t know. He was out of sight on the ground below.
Which brings up another point. I really, truly don’t know if Damian was out of sight or not. I saw NOTHING from on high. I’m sure I ‘looked’ – the pictures that Tucker took show that I did. But nothing at all registered – not then and not afterwards. It’s a very odd phenomenon, acrophobia.
The lack of visual memory (instant, short-term, long-term) is exactly the opposite of what happens in other adrenalin-producing situations. I’ve been in automobile accidents where time slows down to nanosecond by nanosecond freeze-frame images that are forever etched in my mind. But being off the ground affects me totally differently.
Thank goodness Tucker took his camera along. I have enjoyed looking at what I “saw” from above, even though yes, my hands get sweaty even as I see the photos. And it is a wonder to me that I don’t look as terrified as I felt.
I am definitely a down-to-earth sort of person…
You look pensive with that paintbrush, Sydney. I am sorry Nyel is not in the yard waving, but it certainly is a good picture of your place. A little secret, throwing the laundry off our catwalk when I do not want to lug the laundry basket down the stairs makes my tummy do flip-flops. I can stand there and talk to someone downstairs, but watching something go down through the air–yikes!