While I can’t precisely pinpoint what started my fear of heights. I often recall several instances where I felt the pace of my heart, the oncoming sweat, and the jelly-like feeling in my legs quickly joining forces to end me. I took this picture in 1993 while working for Cantor Fitzgerald. I and many others had returned to work after some maniac planted and exploded a bomb in the parking garage. (Note that this was about eight years before the 9/11 attack.) During my lunch break, I attempted to take this picture to, perhaps, show the resilience and strength of the structure and the people who worked there. As I stood staring into the sky, my legs began to buckle. No matter how I repositioned myself, I couldn’t recapture my balance. It wasn’t until I went down on my knees that I could capture what you see below. In the years that followed, I could not cross bridges, enjoy observation decks or enjoy anything related to heights. Strange considering my first paid photo shoot required me to scale a waterfall located within the bear mountains. I’ve since faced my fears, but haven’t gotten past the rapid heartbeat, shortness of breath, or weakness in my knees that are sure to follow.
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