So, i nearly died tonight at 300 feet...
One step.
Two step.
One step.
Two step.
These were the only thoughts I had while climbing the steel bridge for the first time in my life.
I have only had two other chances to climb this bridge in my life, both provided by Simms, and both were utter failures. Of course, the only person I have to blame for this is myself, or rather my own cowardice. The first time I attempted to steel bridge was roughly 5 months ago. I believe it was July because it was the second night of “PDX pop now”. Viva Voce was about to take the stage, and I had never seen them, or even heard of them, before.
“Should we stay and watch this band?”, I asked.
“No, you should come and climb the steel bridge with me, no concert can compare to this experience.”
“Are you sure? Are Viva Voce any good?”*
“Actually, I won’t lie, they are pretty much the best thing you will ever see live, but this is better.”
So I went with him and my other friend Ian (referred to as ICE, because two Ians make things confusing) to the steel bridge.
But... I couldn’t make it. I was too afraid of heights.
It should be noted here that this fear isn’t entirely unfounded. Quick rewind back to my clumsy pre-teens: At one point I had a cast on my hand (I believe it was a trampoline accident, although this might have been when I ran into a wall). This cast was the bane of my existence. I was fucking ten years old, and all I wanted to do was swim at day camp with my friends. I couldn’t wait until I got that thing off and I could jump into the lake and make like a dolphin.
Two days before I got that cast on my arm taken off, two fucking days, I fell off a ladder and broke my foot. I was coming down from my father’s loft (straight from playing 2 hours of Civilization on his first gen mac), and I tried to brace myself with my cast hand. This was a bad idea. I fell, and I fell hard, slicing my arm up from my elbow to where my cast stopped the sharp ladders edge, and broke my foot in two places. I never did swim that summer, nor did I ever trust ladders or heights ever again.
So that first chance I had to climb the steel bridge, I just turned around and went home. This PDX trip though, I was determined. It was my destiny even. Though we went once already last week, I ended up having to stay behind with a girl who, like me before, was too afraid to climb that initial step**, and so I stayed down with her ( and did not make out with her).
Tonight, though, I was more than determined. It was bridge or die.
Climbing this bridge is a weird situation, though, where fear is my greatest enemy. The climb itself is not dangerous enough to warrant precaution, but fear can make you do stupid things. It is the only situation where ones safety is inversely related to how much you have had to drink. Tonight, however, I had enough to declare myself “bridge worthy”, and we went out.
I made the first part**, but after that, going up 300 feet of steeply inclined stairs, all I could think was:
One step.
Two step.
One step.
Two step…. Etc.
But once I made it to the top, all of that evaporated. It was the single greatest experience of my life up to this point. I was 300 feet above the water, in the middle of the river that separates the city, overlooking everything that I hold dear. I looked to the east side, and took in the sprawling hippness- the miles and miles of neighborhoods filled with people I want to be, and people I want to be with. I looked to the west side and saw the downtown sky line I have lusted over from the ground and truly fell in love with from the sky. It was incredible.
After about a half hour of taking in the city and chatting it up, we headed back down. Same as before, one step two step etc, but this time I couldn’t get the Blonde Redhead song “falling man”, out of my mind. Simms’ girl tried to talk to me about licorice, but I would have none of it. One step two step.
It was better than any sexual experience that I have ever had, and I promptly had a cigarette as soon as I made it to solid ground. Portland will never be the same to me. I have seen her at her most vulnerable and unguarded, only at 300 feet. In two days I return to Iowa, leaving the rock and roll life style behind, but for some reason I know that this is okay, knowing that the steel bridge will be there where I get back.
*at the time I had no idea how awesome this duo actually are. They blow my mind, and at this point, they are probably the band I desire to see the most. I tried to see them in Iowa. In fact, I was so excited to see this band play live that I convinced one of my friends to drive three hours with me to see them play live. My Charlie Brown life wouldn’t let this happen, of course, and his car broke down half way to the show. We drove back in a broken car and he wouldn’t stop apologizing, knowing how much the show meant to me. Of course I told him it wasn’t his fault, it was just the life I lead and the trouble I cause, but he wouldn’t have it. In fact, as I write this, Viva Voce are due to play a show in Portland roughly three days after I leave for five bucks with The Village Green, who perhaps are second to Viva Voce in terms of shows missed. I spent ten dollars to see them play at the Doug Fir last may only to find out that they had cancelled, and then found out that they played three showed in Portland as soon as I left for Iowa. So it goes.
** Although the climb itself on consists of tight stairs, around 20 feet up, you have to climb up, and over, a fence designed to keep pedestrians out. It isn’t that hard of a climb, but it’s still enough to keep out the more faint of heart (like myself.)
Two step.
One step.
Two step.
These were the only thoughts I had while climbing the steel bridge for the first time in my life.
I have only had two other chances to climb this bridge in my life, both provided by Simms, and both were utter failures. Of course, the only person I have to blame for this is myself, or rather my own cowardice. The first time I attempted to steel bridge was roughly 5 months ago. I believe it was July because it was the second night of “PDX pop now”. Viva Voce was about to take the stage, and I had never seen them, or even heard of them, before.
“Should we stay and watch this band?”, I asked.
“No, you should come and climb the steel bridge with me, no concert can compare to this experience.”
“Are you sure? Are Viva Voce any good?”*
“Actually, I won’t lie, they are pretty much the best thing you will ever see live, but this is better.”
So I went with him and my other friend Ian (referred to as ICE, because two Ians make things confusing) to the steel bridge.
But... I couldn’t make it. I was too afraid of heights.
It should be noted here that this fear isn’t entirely unfounded. Quick rewind back to my clumsy pre-teens: At one point I had a cast on my hand (I believe it was a trampoline accident, although this might have been when I ran into a wall). This cast was the bane of my existence. I was fucking ten years old, and all I wanted to do was swim at day camp with my friends. I couldn’t wait until I got that thing off and I could jump into the lake and make like a dolphin.
Two days before I got that cast on my arm taken off, two fucking days, I fell off a ladder and broke my foot. I was coming down from my father’s loft (straight from playing 2 hours of Civilization on his first gen mac), and I tried to brace myself with my cast hand. This was a bad idea. I fell, and I fell hard, slicing my arm up from my elbow to where my cast stopped the sharp ladders edge, and broke my foot in two places. I never did swim that summer, nor did I ever trust ladders or heights ever again.
So that first chance I had to climb the steel bridge, I just turned around and went home. This PDX trip though, I was determined. It was my destiny even. Though we went once already last week, I ended up having to stay behind with a girl who, like me before, was too afraid to climb that initial step**, and so I stayed down with her ( and did not make out with her).
Tonight, though, I was more than determined. It was bridge or die.
Climbing this bridge is a weird situation, though, where fear is my greatest enemy. The climb itself is not dangerous enough to warrant precaution, but fear can make you do stupid things. It is the only situation where ones safety is inversely related to how much you have had to drink. Tonight, however, I had enough to declare myself “bridge worthy”, and we went out.
I made the first part**, but after that, going up 300 feet of steeply inclined stairs, all I could think was:
One step.
Two step.
One step.
Two step…. Etc.
But once I made it to the top, all of that evaporated. It was the single greatest experience of my life up to this point. I was 300 feet above the water, in the middle of the river that separates the city, overlooking everything that I hold dear. I looked to the east side, and took in the sprawling hippness- the miles and miles of neighborhoods filled with people I want to be, and people I want to be with. I looked to the west side and saw the downtown sky line I have lusted over from the ground and truly fell in love with from the sky. It was incredible.
After about a half hour of taking in the city and chatting it up, we headed back down. Same as before, one step two step etc, but this time I couldn’t get the Blonde Redhead song “falling man”, out of my mind. Simms’ girl tried to talk to me about licorice, but I would have none of it. One step two step.
It was better than any sexual experience that I have ever had, and I promptly had a cigarette as soon as I made it to solid ground. Portland will never be the same to me. I have seen her at her most vulnerable and unguarded, only at 300 feet. In two days I return to Iowa, leaving the rock and roll life style behind, but for some reason I know that this is okay, knowing that the steel bridge will be there where I get back.
*at the time I had no idea how awesome this duo actually are. They blow my mind, and at this point, they are probably the band I desire to see the most. I tried to see them in Iowa. In fact, I was so excited to see this band play live that I convinced one of my friends to drive three hours with me to see them play live. My Charlie Brown life wouldn’t let this happen, of course, and his car broke down half way to the show. We drove back in a broken car and he wouldn’t stop apologizing, knowing how much the show meant to me. Of course I told him it wasn’t his fault, it was just the life I lead and the trouble I cause, but he wouldn’t have it. In fact, as I write this, Viva Voce are due to play a show in Portland roughly three days after I leave for five bucks with The Village Green, who perhaps are second to Viva Voce in terms of shows missed. I spent ten dollars to see them play at the Doug Fir last may only to find out that they had cancelled, and then found out that they played three showed in Portland as soon as I left for Iowa. So it goes.
** Although the climb itself on consists of tight stairs, around 20 feet up, you have to climb up, and over, a fence designed to keep pedestrians out. It isn’t that hard of a climb, but it’s still enough to keep out the more faint of heart (like myself.)