If you’ve known me for a while, chances are you’re witness to my seemingly terrifying fear of heights. I don’t know what initially caused this issue, but until quite recently I was unable to climb any structure that was not firmly planted in the ground and showed signs of moving. This, naturally, caused me to avoid glass elevators, bridges, lookout towers, and anything else that I would classify as “less than stable.”
I’ve always avoided going to the Space Needle, as it seemed to include ALL of the prerequisites for a terrifying experience: precipitously perched elevators, seemingly fragile construction, and hopelessly tall compared to the surrounding landscape.
So when I went on it for the first time last weekend, the stages leading up to the elevator ride showed all of the classic signs of terror: stiff-legged walking, sweating palms, and the sudden urge to projectile vomit. All things considered, I was surprised that I had nothing more than a minor fright in the initial elevator ride up.
Now provided, there are a few theories that could have explained this lack of terror once arrived at the top. My current working idea is that since it was night-time, I was unable to properly comprehend the height and reality of the situation. In addition, since it was so high up, I had suspended belief and treated it as some sort of disembodied experience.
All things considered, it was an awesome experience, and I’m glad I did it.