“What the heck are you doing?”
“Drilling a hole to place a bolt.”
“Why?”
“I’m gonna climb this thing this weekend and need a way down.”
“You’re gonna lower yourself off this ‘bolt’? With a rope?”
“That’s the idea. Don’t worry, I’ll take it out on Monday and you’ll never know I was here.”
“Huh. Yeah. Just don’t get caught. If you do, you don’t know me, okay?” Said Jim–my boss.
“Okay. Who are you anyway? Why are you talking to me and how did you get up here?” I said with a smile and finished placing the 3/8″ anchor bolt.

The roofing company I was working for was redoing the large flat roof of an old research building. Vacant now. I was fascinated by the four-inch glass stacks we were removing before we could torch down the new roof, trying to think of a use for them if I took some home. Of course, they had been used to vent chemical fumes, but the risk didn’t seem to bother me at the time. I was fascinated–until that is, I peeked over the far wall.

On the downhill side of the building, a smooth concrete wall rose up two feet above the roof and formed a semi-circular turret like you’d see on a castle. The room below must have been round. I walked over to the wall, placed my hands on top, and leaned over the edge. It fell straight down 30 feet to the fallen leaves below.

Holy shit, I thought. Row after row of flaring hand-sized cracks lined the curving wall. It was beautiful. The architects must have thought some exterior texture would look better than flat and boring. I couldn’t have agreed more. From the top, it looked like a giant cog lying on its side. But all the cracks were all flaring. All except one. Where the flat wall began the curve for the turret, one crack pinched the flare into perfect splitter hands. My palms began to sweat, and my toes tingled. A plan formulated immediately. I would climb it this weekend but needed a way off the roof. I grabbed the hammer drill and plugged it in. How I kept that job I’ll never know.