Erin Dauer

Doctor Wahlstrom

English 305W

11/18/01

Attention Skylift One

She nodded absently at the ramblings of her husband as the line inched forward, watching the next round of eighty people push and shove their way into the blue gondola. Men, women, children, an old woman in a motorized wheelchair, a baby strapped to his father's back, bright-eyed with excitement, their smiling faces sunburned from a day at the park. Nobody looks as panicked as me, she thought regretfully. They look so calm. Anxious feelings danced in her throat and her fingers tapped compulsively against her leg.

"Kim, you're going to be fine," her husband reminded her, squeezing her hand in his. "It's a short ride to the top and I'll hold your hand, ok?"

"I know," she muttered, flipping through a brochure about the park and staring past his bulky frame to the blue gondola steadily making its ascent. Stone Mountian loomed before her, its immense expansion intimidating. The gondolas, or "skylifts" as the brochure called them, moved back and forth on the “sturdy cables” as they traveled up and down the mountain, filled to capacity with camera-toting tourists and screaming children. The sensation of sweat pouring down the back of her neck made her shiver.

"It’ll be allright. The skylifts are very safe, Kim. See, it says right there.” He pointed to a poster showing a picture of a gondola going up the mountain with two foot tall letters proclaiming: “Safest Ride in America.”

She rolled her eyes and turned away, annoyed at her husband's ignorance. If he told her "it'll be allright" one more time, she'd scream. He knew she was scared of heights; what was his problem? She was trying to convince herself that she'd be allright just as much as he was. . . "Michael, can't we just hike up?" she asked.

"Nope," he replied, hugging her to him. "It's getting dark; it's the last run of the night."

If he thinks this is helping, he needs to think again. "Please can we just hike to the top?"

"No. Come on, it's our turn." He held her firmly, his burly hand pressed against the small of her back, guiding her into the bustling red gondola. "Kim, it's just like riding the ski lift. You'll be fine."

His attempt at a soft, soothing voice added to her annoyance

Tourists spilled into the red gondola, gushing about the view, the ride, the view, the park, the view, the weather, and the view. The gondola was packed, filled to its capacity, Kim imagined. Children ran round, rushing to stand near the floor-to-ceiling windows so they could "see over the edge" and crashing into people, parents chasing them and some even reprimanding them for such behavior. The designated senior citizen benches were packed with a group of pink-haired grandmas wearing shirts that said "Cosmopolitan=Bible: Not Just a Drink Anymore."

Cameras flashed in all directions as the gondola began to move, the loudspeaker crackling: "Welcome to the Stone Mountain Skylift. Stone Mountain is considered the eighth wonder of the world, with its peak at 1,683 feet above sea level..."

Kim clung to a pole near the door; it was the only spot she could find where there was something solid to hang on to. Michael was trying desperately to convince her to relax, or at least loosen her grip. "Please?" he pled. "Come on, hold onto me at least." He reached his arms around her, pressing her back protectively against his chest, hoping she would relax and let go of the pole.

She tried to listen to his soothing words as the gondola continued to rise, but her fear was increasing with every scream she heard and every reminder of how high up they were. And his attempt at a soft, soothing voice only added to her annoyance. "Are we there yet?" she kept asking.

"No, baby, but look, you can see the city," he said, pointing to the window farthest from them. "It's amazing, isn't it? Look!”

Her eyes followed his finger with reluctant curiosity, afraid to see the edge of the mountain and the sky so close to her. She gasped. The mountain was there, the edge of it almost disappearing from view, lush trees and moss and green as far as she could see. She could make out highways and traffic jams and birds and lines of people waiting for bathrooms and clouds and homes and the beginnings of a red sunset. Her body lost some of its tension and relaxed against him--- it was exhilarating. She caught a glimpse of Turner Field and wondered if there was a game tonight. She took a deep breath and intertwined her fingers through his, forgetting about the pole, the fears, the anxieties, the screaming children, the cameras, and then 1,683 feet above sea level they were approaching. "This isn't so bad," she admitted. She snuggled into his arms and closed her eyes, feeling as if they were dancing together with the gentle sway of the gondola, his chin resting on top of her head. “Are we there yet?”

The old woman in the wheelchair screamed when the gondola jerked. Kim clung to Michael, her fingers now digging into his palms. The children stopped playing. The camera-toting tourists stopped flashing pictures. The pink-haired ladies on the senior citizen bench froze mid-sentence. Michael gasped. The gondola wasn't moving. It wasn't falling or swaying or anything. It just stopped. Dead.

Kim's stomach lurched, her heart thumping in her chest. "We're stuck!" she wailed, breaking the silence. She buried her face in Michael's shirt, tears running down her face, her body beginning to quiver.

"Mommy, why did we stop?"

"Are we stuck?"

"WAAAAHHHH!"

"Are we there yet?"

"I gotta go bathroom!"

The tourists, once so excited and talkative, remained silent except for questioning children and a crying baby. A good portion of them were staring at Kim, waiting for her to say more, but she kept her face buried, her husband smoothing her hair and whispering, "It'll be allright. Everything's gonna be allright."

The loudspeaker crackled and every passenger turned to stare at it, waiting for news. Michael roused Kim from his chest, turning her around so she could see what was going on. She rested her head against his shoulder and turned her attention to the loudspeaker, brushing tears and fears away with the back of her hand. “Are we there yet?” she mumbled.

"Attention Skylift One," a voice began. "There has been a slight malfunction in the system. Please do not panic. You are currently six feet from the top of Stone Mountain. We are working as fast as we can to repair the problem. We will keep you apprised of what is going on. You are in no danger. Please do not panic."

"So we just sit tight until they finish?" one of the pink-haired ladies asked.

"This is ridiculous!"

"Daddy, I'm scared!"

Kim's eyes darted from passenger to passenger. Now they're feeling my anxieties, she thought. Now I'm not the only one. She clutched Michael's hands around her, not moving a centimeter from him, frozen in space and time. Only her eyes moved. Outside the windows it was getting dark, the haze of a red sky appearing over the city. She could see the top of Stone Mountain, swarming with more tourists with cameras and children running around, some of them staring at the static skylift swaying in the warm Georgia breeze. Oddly, she was not as scared now as she had been on the rest of the way up. She could see the ground---safety. The top of the mountain was within reach, and if this stupid thing would just get moving she could be there.

"We recommend that everybody take a seat at this time," said the voice from the loudspeaker. "It's going to be at least 30 minutes until we get everything back online. We apologize for any inconvenience."

Kim sighed and dropped to her knees, Michael following suit. The floor of the gondola was dirty but her body was tired. Thirty more minutes with these frightened people, with the crying and complaining children, with the pink-haired grandmas reminiscing about their teenage years--- thirty more minutes with her thoughts.

She sat comfortably against Michael’s chest, half-listening to him talk about how exciting this was. She was preoccupied with watching the two small boys near them at the door of the gondola. They were on the side without senior citizen benches, and the pole she was once so attached to stood a foot from the door. The door was a little over six feet tall, a long rectangle barely wide enough for a wheelchair, with a shiny silver handle at the boys’ eye level. The boys were obviously excited that they were stuck so high up and had their faces pressed against the window.

“Look, Adam, there’s our car!” The blonde boy pointed towards what must have been the parking lot.

“Wow. I can see it,” the other replied. “Guess what! I can fly like Superman.” Arms flailing, the boy “flew” around in a circle.

Kim’s anxiety returned as she watched and listened to the boys. She began to think about the doors of the gondola---if the gondola stopped because something was offline, wouldn’t that mean that the safety mechanisms on the doors would be offline too? Those boys should get away from the door. Where was their mother?

“No you can’t.”

“Yes I can. Wanna see?” The boy gripped the shiny silver handle, determination showing on every inch of his sunburned face.

“You can’t fly!” the blonde boy yelled.

“YES I CAN!”

The door flew open with a whoosh of warm air. Tourists cried out in shock and fear, the old woman in the wheelchair swore at the man sitting next to her. Kim grabbed the blonde boy, who was nearest to her, and pushed him away from the door. The other little boy who said he could fly like Superman dangled from the shiny silver handle, a high-pitched shriek the only thing coming out of his mouth, his once- determined face now plastered with fear. In one swift movement, Kim’s hands were on his wrists, pulling him into the safety of her arms. Michael slammed the door shut behind them and without a moments notice, the gondola began to move.

“MOMMY!” the little boy sobbed into Kim’s shoulder. “I WANT MOMMY!”

Kim didn’t know what to do or what to say. He was shaking and her body shook almost as much. Tears streamed down her face as the boy clung to her, his legs wrapped so tightly around her she could barely breathe. “Are you okay? Are you okay?” she kept repeating, waiting for the child’s mother to appear.

The gondola continued slowly to the top of the mountain, constant chatter keeping anyone from hearing the voice on the loudspeaker. Tourists had their cameras out again as they reached the top, snapping every angle they could manage and starting to form lines at the door.

The blonde boy pulled on Kim’s shorts. “My mom is over there,” he said, pointing to a pregnant woman frantically pushing her way through the crowd. “I think she’s looking for us.”

“Adam! Jason!” the woman yelled. “Where were you? I told you we couldn’t play hide and seek.” She looked up at Kim, her son in her arms, and scowled. “Get down, Adam! It’s time to go!”

Kim didn’t know what to say. She stared at the woman, curious and confused at the same time. Had she seen what happened? Should she say something about it?

Michael stood by her side, in awe of [CS1] the woman and the boys and Kim. “Come on,” he said, his hand on her shoulder, “We’re there.”

Kim nodded and followed the crowded line out of the gondola, taking her first step onto Stone Mountain, 1,683 feet above sea level.

---end---