Skip to main content

Pictures From the Ledge

          It was a photo opportunity that could not be missed. Why else would I be doing this? Typically, I was a very cautious person. But, there I was, with a friend, standing in a short line waiting to have our photo taken in this precarious-looking spot. I looked around me. The view was simply stunning. I could see why this was a popular photo spot.
          I was nearing the front of the line. When the people ahead of me reached the front of the line, they gave me their camera, took a few steps forward and posed. I took their picture and returned their camera to them as they passed me by. Then, it was my turn. My friend and I passed our cameras to the people behind us and took our places a few steps ahead. Separately but quickly, our photos were taken and it was the next person’s turn. Before I left, though, I could not resist taking a look at where I had been standing. I briefly turned to face the late morning sky, which was cloudless and blue. The rocks, in various earth toned hues, lined the horizon. The flat, rocky ledge on which I was standing extended less than three feet behind me before abruptly ending with no railing to mark its edge. Then, I looked down, my eyes following the jagged edges of the rocks until they ended in the riverbed . . . at the base of the Grand Canyon.

Comments

  1. In a time of so many corporate run forms of entertainment, it's easy to forget that there are still many places where if one forgets oneself it can result in, well, death. Just ask the last guy who thought it'd be fun to pet the "tame buffalos" they keep at Yellowstone Park.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Catch A Cab

We had been walking for about forty-five minutes, making our way from Manhattan’s South Street Seaport to the Macy’s flagship store on 34th Street. When we were within fifteen blocks of our destination, some of my companions decided that we should complete our journey by cab. Despite my attempts to convince them to keep walking, they were insistent. The trip that ensued was a true New York experience. After a few minutes of trying, one of my companions was able to hail a cab. However, we wanted to go north. The cab that stopped was going south. It did not seem to matter, though, as my companions still got in the cab. One person sat in the front while I slipped into the backseat, between the other two. Hardly before the doors could close, the driver had fought his way into Manhattan traffic. Without warning, he took a sharp right turn onto a side street and began to head north, steadily increasing his speed. Within seconds, the cab was weaving a

When in Rome . . . or Seattle

What was I doing here? I do not even drink coffee. Besides, all of these places basically look the same. This place was no different, really. What was the point of my being here? I had no intention of ordering coffee. Yet, there I was, standing in a tiny Starbucks Coffee shop in Seattle. I was not alone. The store was packed to the point where I could hardly move. While most of the people in the store had a drink in hand, I spotted a few who, like me, were just looking around. In any other city, this might have seemed exceedingly strange, going to Starbucks with no intention of getting coffee. But, this was different. This was the first Starbucks. Seattle and coffee are somewhat linked. It was in Seattle that coffee became a pastime. What was once a drink largely reserved for mornings and evening meals, became a day-long obsession. Granted, Starbucks is just another large corporation. But, it was in Seattle that Starbucks began. Seeking out the first store see

Looking At My Luggage

More than twenty four hours had passed since I had arrived in Washington, D.C. My luggage was still nowhere to be found. Despite the promises of the airline’s agents, my missing suitcase had not yet been delivered. With no other alternative, I had spent the day touring Washington in the clothes that I had worn a day earlier. Clothes that I was still wearing. A full day had passed. My friend and I had returned to her house from dinner to find that my belongings remained missing. I promptly began calling the airline, trying to track down my baggage. The agent assured me that my luggage had been located and dropped off at my friend’s home by a delivery service the previous evening. I assured her that it had not been delivered. After more than fifteen minutes of her continued assurances, I was transferred to the delivery service. As with the airline, the delivery service assured me that my luggage had been dropped off, going so far as to give me a specific time at which i