May 29, 2020
Bouchercon is an annual convention of writers and fans of mystery and detective fiction. The year it was held in Toronto, Canada, the organizers of the charity auction (each year the convention auctions off author-donated items to benefit a literacy-related charity) asked if they could auction off a trip with me to the top of Toronto’s CN Tower.
I thought it was a funny request. I mean, is a trip up a skyscraper really a thing? Then I Googled it and found out in this case, it is.
To quote the website, “Speed up to the 1,136-foot-tall LookOut in a mere 58 seconds in one of six high-speed glass-fronted elevators and take in the stunning views of Toronto. Look straight down from the world famous Glass Floor, with its outdoor terrace at 1,122 feet above the ground.”
Why would this be a problem for me? I’m afraid of heights. There, I said it. I have no problem flying my own plane, but make me look over the edge of a fourth-floor balcony and my stomach does backflips. A few years ago I foolishly agreed to walk across the top of the Sydney Harbor Bridge. The inside of my knees were bruised for a week from knocking together.
Now I’d be riding in a glass elevator and walking across a glass floor almost a quarter-mile up? Oh heck. But it would benefit a literacy organization, a cause near and dear to my heart. “Okay,” I told the organizers.
“Wow, you’re brave,” said one. That made me feel a little better. Apparently I wasn’t alone in my acrophobia. Then when I arrived at the convention I saw the listing for the auction item.
“Toronto’s tallest attraction lets adventure lovers take a walk OUTSIDE—around the circumference of the roof! Join Twist Phelan for the Edgewalk, the world’s highest full circle hands-free walk, almost a quarter mile off the ground, around the rim of the CN Tower.”
OH HECK.
The day of the walk, I arrived early at the tower with the winning bidder. She, a former gymnast, was all smiles. Me? Gritted teeth.
We removed our jewelry, pulled on red hats, fluorescent red jumpsuits (not unlike prison garb), black (thankfully) non-slip sneakers, and neon-yellow harnesses. After passing a Breathalyzer test (so much for liquid shots of courage) and being patted down for bobby pins, coins, and anything else that could bean pedestrians below, we were run through a safety briefing then whisked into the elevator that took us to the top.
I looked down through the glass floor of the elevator as the bottom of the shaft receded into the distance until my vertigo kicked in and I shut my eyes. If I was already this scared, how was I going to do the walk?
The elevator deposited us on the 147th floor—147! my brain screamed—and we filed into a small room where each of us was attached by cables to a thick metal pipe. The pipe, in turn, was attached to the ceiling, running from the room to the outside, encircling the circumference of the tower. The cables were our literally our lifelines said our walkmaster, Jordan. I checked mine for signs of wear. It looked okay. I wished I could test the pipe, too.
It was time. I followed Jordan onto the metal platform. “Here we are! No railings or glass—just you and Toronto,” he said.
It was true. Through the floor grid, I saw toy cars and ant-sized people moving through the streets. I was able to look down at the tops of skyscrapers.
“Now let’s walk to the edge,” Jordan said. Move! my brain said to my feet. They didn’t respond. MOVE! my brain insisted.
I inched forward until I felt my toes hang over the edge. “Open your eyes, Twist,” Jordan said.
I did. And—to my surprise—I wasn’t as scared anymore. Instead, I gazed with wonder over the city and Lake Ontario. Jordan put us through our paces—heels over the edge, sitting in space, one leg extended—while pointing out Toronto’s landmarks as we made our way around the tower.
The finale was the Titanic pose: leaning over the edge, arms outstretched. In a rush of bravery, I raised up on my tiptoes and felt giddy.
Too soon the thirty-minute walk was over. On the way down (the glass-floored elevator still riled my vertigo), Jordan told us we’d just tied the Guinness record for the highest external walk on a building.
When I was on the ground again, Husband asked if I were ready to join a Cirque du Soleil high wire act. Heck no! Was I still afraid of heights? Heck yes!
But the rest of my time in Toronto, I was able to look up at the tower and think, “I’ve gone to the edge.
