While we were in New York, my mom, being enthusiastically and endearingly touristy as always, bought the three of us a little thing called the City Pass.
It basically gave us waived or discounted entrance to the city’s most popular and pricey attractions—something I found embarrassing at the time, but have since realized was actually pretty neat.
After all, it was our first time in the city, and what better way to get to know a place than through a guide on a bright red tour bus? [Yes. We were on those buses. It was fun, shut up.]
Anyway, by our third day in the city, we found ourselves at the top of the Empire State Building. The building, which is famous for being… super tall or something?? attracts millions of people each year. The elevator ride up 102 floors was alarmingly fast, and there was a point where you could hear everyone in that tiny, enclosed metal canister of death gasp when their ears popped.
It was terrifying. I don’t have a problem with heights, but elevators make me incredibly nervous. Vivid fantasies of stalled elevators and 102 story drops to certain death had me pressed up against the far wall in terror.
But then we got off, and the fear dissipated, even if part of me continued to wonder if there were stairs back down. The view of the city is incredible; even the bellowing wind and the fear of dropping my phone into the crowds below weren’t enough to keep me from snapping a few pictures of the skyline:
…As well as a few ‘fear selfies’ that I thought would be funny. [I was gifted with the power of weird facial expressions.]
This post went a bit sideways from what I originally intended, but that’s fine; life never turns out the way you expect it to, or some other moral lesson.
Have a great day!