There is literally not a single tiny partial fraction of a bit of this that I like.
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GateHouse — This is a story about parenting, and slightly manic fears about falling to your death in a glass cube of doom.
Last weekend my son and I visited the Skydeck, the top floor of the former Sears Tower (which is now called the Willis Tower, but I still call it the Sears Tower, because everything was better the way it was before). I don’t have a fear of heights, necessarily, but I do have a fear of dying in falls from very high places, which sets me apart from my apparently much more fearless 8-year-old, who has clearly failed to inherit his father’s self-preservation instincts, and by “self-preservation instincts” I mean “nerves of silky gossamer.”
My son was particularly interested in the Ledge, a small glass-floored outcropping that extends four or five feet away from the face of the building, giving the impression, when one steps into it, that one is walking out of the Sears Tower’s top floor into Empty Space, or, more accurately, the waiting and hungry arms of Death. As Chicago tourist attractions go, it’s probably the most pants-wetting, although I’m told the Art Institute’s exhibit on pre-Columbian textiles is totally not far behind.
But here, as you might have guessed, is the problem: Despite my plan to have TV handle most of it, I’m apparently someone’s primary male role model, and as such most of my decisions, actions and fears are being consciously and subconsciously tracked by an impressionable 8-year-old at all times, or at least when he’s paying attention to me, so I guess 1/14th of the time.
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Yeah I refuse to feel bad about being weirded out by this
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But the 8-year-old is also smart, despite his parentage, and the 8-year-old knows that Dad isn’t too keen on the whole idea of heights, which means that for weeks the 8-year-old has been saying things like, “You know, it’s best if you just face your fears, Dad,” because that is EXACTLY WHAT I’VE BEEN TELLING THE INFERNAL 8-YEAR-OLD about his own much less mortal fears (spiders, the end of “Goblet of Fire”), and he has apparently chosen this one single solitary point to listen to me on, ever in the history of anything. So essentially, between my drive to appear strong in the presence of my son and his accurate and infuriating use of the logic that we’ve taught him, I basically tricked myself into going out on the damn Ledge. Parenting is, frankly, a monster pain.
So naturally, when we got to the 103rd floor, the 8-year-old spent a few exciting minutes treating the guardrails in front of the windows as he would a set of monkey bars, which is REALLY HARD TO NOT LOSE YOUR MIND ABOUT, especially when he’s standing on the bars leaning forward a few feet and pressing against the window with his head. (This is probably against all sorts of security restrictions, but it’s hard to be an active, attentive parent when your torso is paralyzed.) Honestly, it was almost enough to make feel better about getting to the Ledge.
Ha! Just kidding, the Ledge is horrifying. There are actually four Ledges, so you pick one, and then you wait for people who are taking pictures of themselves lying down on the glass floor, or jumping up and down on the glass floor, or pretending to fall backwards off the glass floor, or generally taking forever on the glass floor so you can’t just get in there and take your stupid picture with your over-animated son and get the ruddy damn hell out.
Of course, to take that stupid picture you have to stupid step out on the stupid Ledge, which again is something that may or may not require five to 400 seconds of Mental Preparation, depending on how effectively one imagines the entire apparatus shattering with that first step and dooming one to a colorful and splattery plummeting.
Also, 40 seconds after the photo was taken, my son was basically splayed out on the floor, face down on the glass staring downward and imagining, I’m guessing, that he was a helicopter, which probably raises as many cleanliness issues as it does safety ones but we’ll just take this one horror at a time. “I think Dad didn’t like it,” my son reported later, and I had to stifle the urge to say, “YES STARING DOWN 13,000 OF STRAIGHT VERTICAL DROP WAS A LITTLE UNNERVING, AND YES I KNOW IT’S ONLY 1,300 FEET BUT YOU TELL THAT TO MY SYMPATHETIC NERVOUS SYSTEM.”
“The things we do for our kids,” a friend wrote reassuringly, which would be true, except that I’m no longer doing anything for this kid, as we are now completely even for everything up to and including teaching how to ride a bike, saving for college and, very probably, future helicopter pilot lessons.
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July 25th, 2012 at 7:51 am
Ugh, I’m dizzy just from looking at the picture! It is horrible when kids choose bits of parental advice to quote back to us, usually at the worst times.
July 25th, 2012 at 9:08 am
Right? Who the hell knew they were listening? Thanks for reading.
July 25th, 2012 at 8:23 am
Hey, I witnessed the entire event. Jake was excited and really enjoyed the experience. Oh, his dad was indeed a brave little soldier.
Grandpa Jeep
July 25th, 2012 at 9:09 am
Normally I would make a sarcastic comeback to this, but I need to borrow your car today
July 25th, 2012 at 10:27 am
Sweet Sassy Molassy – you’re a saint! I would have shoved The Toddler Tornado out there and taken a picture from afar. Or told her to go ask her father.
July 25th, 2012 at 10:43 am
I actually thought about just having them stand there and taking a pic with him and 20 people I don’t know because whatever
July 25th, 2012 at 3:48 pm
I hadn’t even read the title of your post, just saw the picture, and I immediately got a knot in my stomach. We have planned a visit to Chicago with the kids and I’ve dreaded this exact bit of it for months. Thanks for letting me know I’m not alone! (You are a rock star, by the way. I’m still not sure if I’m a good enough parent to step in.)
July 25th, 2012 at 4:32 pm
TELL THE KIDS IT IS CLOSED FOR REPAIRS UNTIL 2023. Also it’s less of a “step in” and more of a “step down.” Thanks for reading!
July 25th, 2012 at 4:39 pm
OH GOD, a step DOWN? I’m done. It’s officially “closed”.
July 25th, 2012 at 4:48 pm
It felt like a step down. About 1,300 feet of down.
July 25th, 2012 at 5:03 pm
Yep. It’s “closed”.
July 25th, 2012 at 10:08 pm
There is NO way in a million years that I would’ve done that. You are a brave brave man!
July 26th, 2012 at 9:04 am
Thanks, MOTR. But an actually brave man would have probably had to stifle fewer tears
July 25th, 2012 at 11:50 pm
I think I would have sent the kid out on the ledge alone and stayed back to take better pictures of him
July 26th, 2012 at 9:04 am
That is because you are much much smarter than me
July 26th, 2012 at 2:58 pm
From the angle of the picture, it’s hard to tell you’re even WEARING an adult diaper!
The last time I was there, my lower body ached from the moment we got off the elevator. I stood in the middle the entire time. I could never have done The Ledge of Death. Kudos.
July 26th, 2012 at 4:36 pm
Ha! Yeah it was tough to get that through security, Chris. Thanks for reading
July 26th, 2012 at 4:14 pm
From the angle of this picture, you can’t even tell you’re wearing the adult diaper!
Seriously, you’re braver than me…the one time I was there I stood in the middle with my lower body actually aching from the heights.
July 28th, 2012 at 12:33 pm
I’m not particularly afraid of heights, but I still peed myself a little thinking about this. So … thanks for that.
July 29th, 2012 at 8:38 am
happy to help, Kathy!
August 20th, 2012 at 10:16 am
You have a brave son, I need the mental preparation just to take the elevator up in a crowded elevator. Stupid tourists!
August 20th, 2012 at 10:45 am
Boy, no kidding. I didn’t realize it had turned into such a tourist thing. Took us about an hour just to get on the elevator
October 31st, 2012 at 3:10 pm
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