For years now, whenever I see window washers dangling precariously from the side of a building, I take a moment to ask if one of them may be kind enough to take me up with them to get a bird’s eye view. Obviously they always say no because of liability reasons, but I’m a determined woman(or maybe just delusional). Wednesday night, some friends and I were walking down Montgomery Street and I was marveling at a crew way up high using a spot light to guide their way and I exclaimed "Man, I want to go up there sometime!"
Two blocks further there was a building covered in scaffolding, and two men in safety vests were hanging out on the corner with an English Bulldog in his own cute little safety vest. We stopped to pet the dog, I asked if there was a construction elevator in place, and before I knew it, after nearly a decade of rejection, a kind and crazy Operational Engineer escorted me and my friend 35 stories high into the San Francisco night.
It wasn’t one of those rickety little platforms but an orange cage elevator that hangs off the edge of the building between scaffolding. At ten stories my knees buckled, and at twenty I thought I was going to pee myself, but once at the top my fear was replaced with pure exhilaration; of the view, of finally being able to say I did it! The view of downtown and bay was magical, and being suspended 350 feet over Sutter Street filled me with absolute joy (although I believe the technical term is adrenal delirium.)
Seriously, when you want something, don't stop asking.