On the first lap of my morning mile a week ago this guy was just climbing a nearby billboard and starting to put up a new ad. It gave me the idea for this blog so I stopped for my camera before the second lap. By the time I got back, he already had the panels up - much quicker than in the old days where the strips had to be pasted and it was a two-man job.
The outdoor advertising employee made me think of all the jobs that require workers not afraid of heights (acrophobia not vertigo which is mistakenly commonly used) - window washers, tightrope walkers, construction workers, TV and cell tower installers, anyone who works (or lives) in a skyscraper, etc.
I can remember learning about the Native American iron workers called Skywalkers and thinking how neat it was that they could walk on those steel beams high above the city. Now it bothers me to watch the opening scenes of any TV show or movie taken from a helicopter looking down on skyscrapers.
My acrophobia has developed with age. In the 1970's I thought it was so great to go up in a glass elevator. I remember enthusing about the one at Hallmark Crown Center in Kansas City - being excited to introduce my parents to the ride. And while I was saying, "Isn't this wonderful?", my Mom was standing as far back as she could and not looking down. She didn't like it one bit and I didn't understand why.
The last time I rode in one of those elevators was about seven years ago at the Hyatt Regency in San Antonio. I had to do the same thing my Mom did - stand at the back and not look down.
Climbing fire towers whether in Northeast Iowa, Eureka springs or out West was something Bud and I did until my knees started bothering me too much. I wasn't worried about how high up I was.
Except for the heat and the two+ mile hike, being atop Bear Butte didn't bother me. Of course I was looking more out than down.
Even sitting in the nosebleed section at the top of one of those wings at Arrowhead Stadium wasn't a problem from the fear of heights standpoint. It was a problem seeing the game, though, and the wind made it pretty cold even though it was a nice 60 degree December day in Kansas City.
I thought I was going to be able to walk out and look down through the glass floor in the Infinity Room at the House on the Rock as Bud did until I got far enough out to take this picture of him. I could feel that cantilevered tunnel moving! I practically ran back to the entrance saying, "It's moving, it's moving!" I think my obvious fear kept a few other tourists from walking out there. And to think I once rode one of those express elevators to the 94th floor observatory of the John Hancock Center in Chicago! Of course I was only thirty-two when I did that - no acrophobia then - just thrills. Feeling the 100 story skyscraper sway was nothing and the views were amazing.
Once again, it was my arthritic knees that bothered me climbing all those stairs at Seven Falls in Colorado Springs, not the height. I really wanted to get to the top and the former grave site of Helen Hunt Jackson - author of Ramona. (I made it and have a picture of me sitting under the Ramona sign.)
It was only the desire to see the cliff dwellings at the top of about five sets of these ladders that kept me climbing at Bandelier National Monument in New Mexico. I couldn't imagine actually standing in the ruins where Ancestral Pueblo people lived hundreds of years ago. No fear of heights could keep me from seeing it for myself. It was one of the most awe-inspiring experiences I've ever had. Bandelier is one of those lesser known places that I would recommend to anyone who loves archaeology - especially Native American.
Standing atop the scenic lookouts at the Grand Canyon was something I could still do when we were there in the early 90's. The Skywalk had not yet been built. Would I have been able to go out on it if it had been there twenty years ago? I don't know. I do know there is NO WAY I could walk around and look down through the clear floor to the bottom of the canyon 4000 feet below now. Just looking at pictures of it and thinking about it makes me nauseous. What if someone offered me a million dollars to do it? Hmm m, interesting thought.
I believe I have figured out why the fear of heights gets worse as one ages. It is the realization, conscious or unconscious, that the older you are the closer you are to going into that final abyss.
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