Today I went back to eastern Orlando with Melissa to help her with a graduate school class project of hers. This entailed us going to her school's main six-story building and making a video. While waiting to use the video room on the sixth floor there, I excused myself for a few minutes and went out into the empty hallway for a few minutes. I walked toward the end of the hall, where there were some tables, chairs, and a window presenting a nice view outside. On the way, though, I noticed a door marked "Stair Access to Roof". I turned the knob and it was unlocked. I picked up an eraser from a nearby whiteboard and used it to keep that door slightly ajar (having seen the movie Thank God It's Friday, I know how possible it is to get locked in stairwells...at least in movies, that is). Then I scurried up the last flight of stairs to the roof. To my surprise, the final door to the outside was unlocked, and I stepped through it. And, it felt, into another world.
Even though this building's roof was relatively clear and flat, I still somehow felt vulnerable being there. Not because I was doing anything illegal: there was nothing I could see prohibiting me from visiting up there. Rather, I was in a completely different type of environment, much more exposed to nature and the reality and hugeness of the surrounding earth and sky: the crest of a tall (for this area) building. I strode over to one of the edges, leaned over, and took a couple of pictures with my Blackberry. After a few minutes up there, I made my way back downstairs.
Walking around on the roof of a six-floor building shouldn't be that big of a deal, but it was for me. There is a kind of unexplainable mystique about it, perhaps akin to reaching the top of a mountain. I just remember it being almost dizzying standing there and wondered to myself how ridiculously excitable I can be at times from simple experiences!
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