Thursday, 21 August 2003 | The Empire State Building

The observation deck on the Empire State Building is on the 86th floor. To get there, you must first be corraled in a zig zag in the basement, where you will be forced to stand in front of a bad drawing of the Empire State Building and get your picture taken. (Later, the picture of your dead-looking face will be marketed to you at $15 per two copies). You will listen to a peppy man with a microphone tell you how you need both the audio tour and the "sky ride," both of which come at an extra cost. You will decline all three.

As you slowly thread through the line, certain people will become quite familiar to you; you pass them facing this way, facing that way. You match bone structure and hair color with languages and try to determine the various countries. In this line, it's tacitly understood that it's okay to check other people out, because there's nothing else to look at.

Tickets in hand, $11 each. The first floor hosts a maze identical to that in the basement; it is not the last one between you and the 86th floor. (To go up, it seems, you must do lots of back-and-forth.) In the elevator, you will breathe on the shoulders of strangers, watch the digital numbers above the door rise surprisingly fast, and swallow at least twice to clear your ears. When you step out of the elevator on the 80th floor, you'll see a sign that says, "Almost there!" Yet around the corner, you spy another snake made of people, and you hear another peppy headset-wearing man say, "Only six more floors!"

After the second elevator, you are finished with lines; however, not unlike lines, there are slow-moving and stationary people in front of you, but for no apparent reason this time. You must make yourself narrow and slide past. There are so many people; you forget that you're one of them.

The path around the building is narrow, and the sturdy metal fence high. You notice that the sea of lights below you meets the horizon, and that the toy buildings at your feet are the short and stumpy cousins of the supermodel you're standing on. Your camera feels slippery in your hands as you hold it over the edge of the building, as you try in vain to capture the expanse of the surrounding 3-D city on a 4x6 piece of glossy paper. It's windy and warm and the earth is glowing, none of which will come through.

You will be uncertain when you should leave, or at what point you've enjoyed it enough. You decide on two slow trips around the top: East River, Queens, Chrysler, Central Park, Midtown, Jersey, Downtown, Flatiron, Union Square, Brooklyn. (Repeat.) Then back in line.