All part of the adventure: or is it?

All part of the adventure: or IS it?!?
So we get to this bloody huge shot tower… the largest in the Southern Hemisphere no less! And it looks challenging, interesting, maybe a bit of fun & definitely weirdly phallic.
So we pile out all gung ho* (gung ho /ˈɡʌŋˈhoʊ/ is an English term meaning ‘enthusiastic’ or ‘overzealous’. Gung ho is an anglicised pronunciation of “gōng hé” 工合) & we grudgingly part with some of our very-hard-earned money (quite a ridiculous fee) to the smiling man in the overpriced-tacky-souvenir-shop-entrance, who assures us the fee includes a stimulating informative 3-minute DVD presentation.
And through the wooden door into the convict-carved-bricks of the tower we go – all gung ho.
It’s very mysterious in the little ‘corridor’ until a TV screen perched on a brick in the corner suddenly springs to life; whereupon we meet the 87 year old eccentric who come up with the idea. Well I use the term ‘meet’ very loosely, as it’s really just an antiquated brown & white photo of him & someone voice-overing a short factual script. So short in fact, I accidentally allowed my attention to wander, looked momentarily away, & it was over: not the whole presentation; just the only interesting facts about who the old geezer was, how he come up with the plan, engineered it, commissioned it and made it happen all back in 1870. Just those bits. I missed all them.
But I did tune-in for the latter half of the DVD which basically was nothing more than poorly-filmed snippets of the tacky souvenir-shop-entrance from which we’d just come, reminding us it was the only way out once we’d climbed & conquered the tower, & we simply must make purchase of some it’s rare treasures – you know the varieties: Chinese-cheaply-made furry-finger-puppet platypuses* {Scientists generally use platypuses or simply platypus. Colloquially, the term “platypi” is also used for the plural, although this is technically incorrect and a form of pseudo-Latin; the correct Greek plural would be “platypodes”} & brown, red or green tiny plastic-rubber-frogs ad nauseam* {Ad nauseam is a Latin term for disgust that has continued so long that it has continued “to [the point of] nausea”}.
So, through the next door we go; onto a wooden platform suspended about a third of the way up the very long, high tower. Such fun, such feet-tingling excitement. Such adventure!!
Step leads the way up the narrow, spiral wooden steps {I like saying Step & steps in one sentence… kinda poetically crazy, isn’t it?} around & around the stone walls of the tower- getting more & more narrow the higher & higher you go.
Notice right here, I’ve changed from it being ‘us’ to ‘you’. For a very good reason, my friend. BECAUSE I FREEZE! I can’t do it.
I can NOT go up those steps. OK, to be fair, I ascended five steps, so technically I guess I could say I experienced ascending the stairway.
But, you see, the wooden stairs were simply that: a piece of wood suspended over another pice of wood on a wooden frame. Average stairs. Sensibly built you might say. But the steps had no back on them!!!
This means that when you look down at your foot to lift it to the next step you can see through the stairs ALL THE WAY TO THE BOTTOM. EVERY BLOODY STEP!! And the bottom just gets further and further away the higher you go. All the way down. A long way. So my mind sees the step but also sees the put way down there in the dungeon & then my brain is confused; ‘I’ve lifted this foot, but where do I put it down?’.
I console myself with the thought that I would have been a conquering-princess-warrior had those stairs been filled-in like any normal, sensible, tower-stair-builder would have done, I would have made it past five steps! That’s what I tell myself.

Step takes the other million steps all the way to the very top of the very tall tower, waving frantically from the top in the clouds. Exhilarated & acting like Jack & the Beanstalk after slaying the dragon; yelling his victory to the world; chatting casually with God all the way up there in Heaven together…. while I withdraw from the tower, through the corridor & back to the souvenir-shop,fee-collecting still-smiling man just three & a half minutes since I’d seen him last.
Explaining my very real dilemma of dizziness, sweaty hands & pins-and-needles-feet; in a semi-accusing tone, pointing out his neglect in being forthwith with the crucial information of the half-done, never-ending, scary, hairy, ridiculously-freaky spiral stairwell, reasonably expecting an instant refund as he opens a secret drawer just under the dirty cardboard box of dusty, worm-sized, multi-coloured rubber-snakes, his smile never falters.
He raises his chubby hand and places into my sweaty palm a boring, uninteresting, crappy white sticker. It simply says: ‘at least I tried’.

Tragic!!

FOOTNOTE: the TWO sets of arms belong to Step & our dear brave friend Rapunz, oh I mean Kerry.

I know you enjoy my ‘little lesson’ in each post – today, you’re writing you’re own. Be sure to let me know!

You’ve been loved-on
With
Love, joy & happy vibes
By
Chrissy

Advertisements