There was a time in my life, my Junior and Senior years in High School (and also in my early College years) that . . . I was just free. 

Do you remember that feeling of being unburdened by life ? 

Like you could take on anything ? 

That childlike excitement for the future . . . before adulthood came in and made things bleak and oppressed with responsibility ?

When your sense of freedom was almost overwhelming as you began to choose your destiny in life.

I, being a lighting and sound nerd even in High School, did the lighting and sound for all the plays that the School did.  It wasn’t just me, most of my friends were in the Drama Club and stayed after school for months at a time getting ready for whatever the next play was. 

I remember that me and Michael West, who would later be my college roommate, were just becoming good friends as we both worked on the lights for this play.  Most of the lights were above, or just in front of, the stage.  But about 1/3 of them were above the concrete ceiling plates in the auditorium (above the audience seating).  Our High School didn’t have a catwalk to get to the lights . . . we had an aluminum scaffolding. 

When it was time to adjust these lights, much to the chagrin to the Theatre teacher Mr. Sullivan, we would play music while we worked.  We would play what we called ‘Climbing Music’ . . . which was usually the soundtrack to Star Trek Generations.  We would start the CD on an intense track, playing it loudly over the sound system, set the new CD player to repeat that one track, and then roll the scaffolding all the way to the edge of the stage (near the audience).

We would then lock the wheels . . . get extra ladder rungs . . . build it up all the way to the ceiling (two stories up) and then add one more rung on the side facing the audience . . . this is where the ceiling plates over the audience began . . . where the lights were.  This was the only way to get above the ceiling over the audience seating in the auditorium.  But even though the tallest scaffolding rung was five feet or so above the ceiling plates, meaning when you climbed all the way up, your feet were level with where you needed to step off to . . . there was a gap of about three feet between the scaffolding and the ceiling plate.

This meant that you had to first reach across and grab one of the support cables holding the concrete ceiling slabs up while also holding onto the scaffolding.  Then, all at once, you had to let go of the scaffolding and shift your weight and step over the gap to the ceiling . . . all the while this intense music playing.  There was a moment, with one foot on the ceiling plate and one on the scaffolding, where you were spanning the gap with your body two stories in the air.  So you had to shift your weight fast, once you started to step off the ceiling plate you couldn’t stop moving forward or you’d fall . . . you had to make the step to the ceiling.  I’m not explaining it very well, but you get the idea.  That feeling of knowing that if you stopped, you’d fall two stories to concrete and plastic seating, I remember very clearly. 

I hated it . . . and I loved it. 

This is also why Michael and I were the only ones who set those lights . . . we were the only ones who would do it !

Looking back I don’t know how we got away with it . . . it was so dangerous . . . but those were different times I guess.  Anyways, the music only ramped up the intense feeling as I leaned out over the gap and stepped to the ceiling.

It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time . . . but it needed to be done.  Well, that’s the way we thought in High School.  Someone has to set these lights !

I remember that feeling of stepping from the scaffolding to the ceiling plate, that moment of pure danger where . . . if you fell . . . you’d either die or wish you had. 

That’s where I am now in my life.  I have that excitement for the future, just pure childlike excitement and awe that came with High School.  And I have that feeling, that I’m moving from the scaffolding to the ceiling, knowing that I’ve started the move and I cant stop . . . or I’ll fall.  I’ve shifted my weight and,  from now until Monday afternoon, I’m in mid air. 

I hear the Climbing Music playing in the back of my head . . . and I’m exhilarated and terrified at the same time.  It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like this . . . and I love it.