The Statue of Liberty is re-opening, but people will not be permitted inside the lady.
I was surprised to learn that there are only 354 steps to the crown of Lady Liberty. The day I wound my way up for the glimpse out of her head, there were a lot more steps. I was in Manhattan to take the testimony of a doctor at Rockefeller University, which is located pretty close to the heli-pad on Riverside Drive that was Harrison Ford's goal in Sabrina. After we finished, I decided to be a tourist and head on out to Liberty Island.
I recall that I had a cab driver who spoke English for the ride down to the ferry. I don't remember much about the trip on the ferry, but I did wander around the island, snapping a few pictures. Then the handle on my briefcase broke; so, I was reduced to carrying the burgundy case under my arm.
It was 90 degrees F. and humid, which, I understand, is not unusual for the Big Apple in August. Back in the day, I was more deferential to others; and I wore a damn suit. I went into the building that is the base of the monument and toured that, taking the elevator to the top of that structure, going outside, looking up into the sky at the 22 story spikey-crowned woman.
I talked with one of the uniformed police for a while, who convinced me that I should make the trek to the top. After all, he said, you may never get the opportunity again. So, the gate to opportunity was in front of me. I got in line with all the other morons people in the sweltering August heat.
The line moved rather quickly; and I was finally gazing up a long winding stainless steel staircase, getting hotter, inside the girdered, plexiglassed interior of the Statue of Liberty herself. It is ironic I remember thinking at that time about the Hitchcock movie The Saboteur, briefcase under my arm, nobody giving me a second look.
The winding stairway seemed to go straight up with about a two-foot radius. Each step was occupied by man, woman, or child. About five steps ahead of me, a women started to panic, screaming that she wanted to get down, which was nearly impossible unless we passed her back down. I don't know how we all managed, but she made it down, squeezing by us, thanking us, her face a ghastly whitish-gray color.
Sweating like Magic Johnson on a hot night in Boston Garden, wringing wet, dripping, I checked with the blond, 20-ish woman being pelted with my perspiration. She politely said she wasn't upset at all and thanked me for my concern. She said it was "fuckin' hot," which made me somewhat more comfortable with our common suffering.
It took some time to reach the summit, long enough that I knew the others, laughing and huffing, puffing, and perspiring, immediately up above and directly below, and we had to keep moving, no stopping, when we crossed Lady Liberty's brow. I took some snapshots as I moved across the few feet to the tight spiral staircase winding down into the bowels of the statue. It was a hot, hazy day in New York and the pictures didn't show much, except they were proof that I had made it to the top of the Statue of Liberty.
Posted by Bill at March 30, 2004 05:51 PMYou have AG Eiffel to thank for those stairs.
Posted by: Anji at March 31, 2004 01:57 AM