A few days ago I attempted to conquer the Eiffel Tower. I would do what Hitler failed to do and walk up all the stairs to the second level. Hadn't really thought about getting the lift up to the third level, that wasn't really on my list. My mission was just the stairs. I'd never seen the Eiffel Tower before except in photos. It didn't actually look as big as I imagined it would be. This gave me a sense of false hope.
I first knew I was in trouble on the very first flight of stairs. I was climbing these stairs as an 18 stone 40 year old that lives in a bungalow, and not as an 11 stone 25 year old that lives at the top of a tower block.
The rain didn't help either. I was wearing a big heavy coat that was making me sweat. Didn't really do my photo taking plans any favours. I imagine that if it was a nice sunny day that i could take regular breaks, sit on the steps, maybe eat a sandwich or two, write a short poem, then climb a few more flights. The rain made it more like MUST KEEP CLIMBING TO GET OUT OF RAIN.
I made it to the first level without too much trouble. My legs were shaking a bit, but I was basically fine. Took some photos and had a look around.
Then the Cristy said we had to walk up to the second level.
This is where I started to give up. I'd say that I was over half way up to the next level. I had maybe about four good minutes of walking left, but I just said "bollocks to this" and stopped. Maybe it was because I really don't like heights, and this shit was high. Now it wasn't just high, it was moving with the wind kind of high, and I was sweating, hot, wet, knackered, scared and my need to conquer it wasn't as great as my need to go back down and chill out. So the Cristy mocked me for a bit and then went on without me.
I'd like to say that this is as shit as the experience got, but no. I got back down to the first level, couldn't find how to walk back down. The stairs that we had walked up had a no entry sign on them. So I just walked around the first level trying to figure out what to do. This is when my legs really started to shake. I was feeling quite sick as well. The kind of sick that you feel when you go back to the gym after not going for a year and then do loads of cardio.
After about ten minutes I decided to go back down in the lift. I was at the front of the line for the queue, then loads of Chinese people stood in front of me, then a French dude blocked me. When the lift turned up he put his arm out to stop me going so he could let a load of ladies get in the lift. Not sure if he was being noble or if he was just a cunt. I was kind of hoping that my sick feeling would turn into full on projectile vomit, and that I would spew a load of half digested baguette down the back of his neck. This didn't happen, but the thought that it could of happened chilled me out enough that I resisted the urge to skull fuck him.
So after waiting for the next lift down I decided to take a photo directly underneath the tower using my trusty fisheye lens.
This was probably the best thing to come out of my Eiffel Tower conquering mission. It's now three days later and my legs still hurt when I walk.
I'd like to go back there, maybe in the summer and attempt it again, but for now I'm just happy that I beat Hitler.