Day 16 - Sarah

Bio: Sarah is a friend I first met in 2005 when I was getting involved at Henderson. She is charismatic, smart, and a go-getter, she loves music and live concerts with a passion, and she is a photo-taking nazi who will enlist absolute strangers to take photos of her and friends. She is serious about those photos!

There are two things I really admire about Sarah. One, she takes the time to know her inner world enough that she knows what she wants. I don’t mean that in a selfish sense, I mean that in a purpose-filled life sense. Her activities, her time, her city of residence, all of these things are informed by her sense of where God is leading her and what he has entrusted her to do.

Two, she loves art and culture along with having a powerful faith, and can recognize the value of some “secular” art. Eternal truths are spoken or illustrated in the oddest places in art and culture. Just because the author isn’t explicitly faith-focused doesn’t mean there aren’t powerful truths to uncover in their work. As an example, Sarah introduced me to my favorite magazine, Relevant Magazine, which I highly recommend for any and all.

Day 16 Challenge: Ben, I’ve enjoyed browsing your blog these past few days, reading all about your exploits with pictures for proof. I honestly have struggled a little bit to come up with a worthy challenge for you. Although I’m still not convinced I have done so, the clock is ticking on my date. I’m pretty sure I need to get this in the mail TO-DAY. So here is, perhaps, a strange challenge… sort of like a car wash in terms of choices. I’ll explain.

If you’d like a GOOD challenge (wash, underbody, dry): Set aside an hour or so and go visit a kill shelter (as in an animal shelter where they end up putting the animals to sleep). If allowed, spend some time with the animals, petting them, maybe even letting them lick your face (I hear you are into the whole kissing thing).

If you’d like a BETTER challenge (full body shine- conditioning, tri-color foam, Durashield Protectant with Body Armor): Find a home for one of these animals. Rack your brain and track down someone who’d like a pet, and secure some kind of verbal agreement that he or she will in fact adopt from the shelter you visited.

If you’d like the BEST challenge (Tire shine package- long lasting tire shine, wheel cleaner PLUS full-body shine): Adopt one of these animals yourself. I realize this may not be a realistic challenge for you, and that is why you may consider the challenge complete should you do the “good” or “better” option. However, I did want to throw it out there in case you had been thinking, “Man, what I’d really like for my 30^th birthday is a pet!” And that is it… enjoy your Saturday!

Reaction: Huh. I continue to be surprised at the originality of the challenges. From what I know of Sarah, I would have bet money she would have had a music challenge of some kind, so this one takes me by complete surprise! I’ve never been to an animal shelter, so it will be a first for me in discovering what those places are like. I have to say, my chances of adopting a pet are pretty slim at the moment. 1) Jerrod owns the house so he gets to decide that stuff, and 2) I don’t think I want to keep an animal locked up in our house for 8 hours a day when I’m at work. Still, I’m glad she gave me options.

Recap:

I looked online and found the city of Edmond (where I live) has an animal shelter not too far from my house, off of Danforth and I-35. So in early afternoon, I hopped in my car and headed over there. There are several buildings housing city offices spread out among a pretty wooded drive alongside the animal shelter, which gives it a nice, nature-infused feel. Walking up to the door, I noticed several signs declaring anyone bringing an animal into the shelter had to go in and give the staff a heads-up first. I’m guessing there was an unfortunate incident or two between animals in the entry area.

I read the sign outside the door, which listed the various services the shelter provided, and at what price. Euthanization was an option, so I knew this was a kill-shelter, part of Sarah’s requirements. I haven’t thought too much about kill-shelters being bad or good, but if you want my opinion, they don’t upset me. Having wild animals roaming around isn’t good for public health, so these shelters provide a service to all of us. And if these animals get a chance to get adopted first, then that sounds like a fair system to me.

One of my friends, Kyle (Day 5) has rescued two dogs from the OKC animal shelter, and one of the things he’d warned me about was the smell. According to Kyle, walking into the OKC shelter is like getting hit in the face with an overpowering stench of dogs and cats. (Let’s be honest, folks. It’s largely dogs). However, I can honestly say the Edmond shelter does not smell that way. It smells of bleach. Strongly. Still, I’d rather go into a place that smelled like a cleaning product than one that smells like 100 odorific dogs. Good job Edmond.

There were two ladies at the front desk. One of them was helping a dad and his daughter fill out adoption paperwork for a dog, maybe a lab, sitting next to them. I waited in line, and listened to the process. Adopting sounds really easy, with one condition – that you own your residence. This man did not, and so the worker explained they would have to call the landlord and talk to him or her and get permission before they could sign over the animal. The man didn’t look pleased, but I’m sure this saves the shelter from adopting out animals that get returned a few days later when a landlord finds out.

The second lady, short, brown-haired with a bit of a button nose, waved me over. “What can I do for you?” she asked. I told her I wanted to look at some animals, if I could. She buzzed open a door next to the waiting area and I walked through.

I stood in a wide hallway with a couple doors leading off of it and a bit window ahead. To my right was a row of medium-sized cages with cats in them. Some were tabby, some were black and white, and one was all white. I felt a little awkward staring at the cats when I really had no intention of adopting one. It was like I worried they’d be able to tell and would, I don’t know, hiss at me or something. Cats are usually pretty stand-off-ish anyway. One of my friends told me, “Dogs think of themselves as people. Cats think of themselves as gods.” Which I think is pretty true. So what these cats did surprised me.

They were affectionate. With a stranger. I put my fingers through the slats of the top cage and started petting the cat there. It had been asleep, but it woke up and began pressing itself against the wires, letting me pet it. Once it was obvious I was staying and not moving on, all the cats did this. Some were more insistent than others, but all of them (about 15 cats) were eager for my touch. One of the cats on the bottom row of cages stuck its front paw out of the cage and hooked my shorts in its claw, almost as if it was crying out “Pet me!”

I made time to pet each one of the cats, and gave a couple some extra pets because they tugged at my heart strings a little. I wonder what goes on in a domesticated cat’s brain where it comes to long for human touch, as these cats did. Have we bred that into them? Do cats that go feral miss being petted and rubbed? I know people need human contact, but these cats acted like they did too. It surprised me.

I walked over to the big window and looked in on a kitten room. There were somewhere around 30 kittens in the room, which looked to be kitty heaven. Lots of comfy cushions lay about for napping, there were several large scratching posts with multiple levels for the cats to play on, along with hanging baskets and toys scattered on the ground. Seriously, if you are looking for a moment of sheer “AW” cuteness, that room will not be topped. Right next to the window was a chair that had five to seven kittens sleeping piled into a heap together. Others were romping around the scratching posts, and others were sleeping here or there about the room. I stood at the window and watched for a bit, picking out the different colors and types of fur in the room.

Loud barking interrupted my reverie. Two volunteers came in, a teenage boy and his mom, who each had a dog on a leash. The dogs were eager and straining at their leashes, and the two led the dogs into a room off the hallway where loud barks greeted their entry. Dogs are just loud.

I located a second room of dogs, other than the one the volunteers went into, and walked inside. There were about 16 cages, large to my mind (seven or eight feel long, four feet wide, 7 feet high) made of cross-hatch fencing. All the cages were full. I started at one end and worked my way down, petting the dogs. There were a lot more little dogs than there were big dogs. I don’t know if that is generally true of all shelters or just this one on this day. Of course the dogs were eager for me to pet them, as I anticipated.

One of the dogs towards the end was impatient for me to get to his cage, and he barked at me insistently to get over there and pet him! I like to think of myself as young and hip, but sometimes my inner fuddy-duddy comes out in force, and this was one instance of that. I didn’t like that dog barking so loud, and I didn’t appreciate him trying to get me to skip the others and attend to him only, so you know what I did? I skipped his pen and petted every other dog first. That showed him, huh? Maybe I should be disturbed by that. Maybe that shows a mean streak in me. I don’t know. If I’m honest, even though I think dog lovers are cooler than cat lovers, I am not a dog person. Dogs are stupid, and you can’t reason with them, and they are overly dependent on you and needy for attention, and I just prefer animals that behave. That’s sort of how I feel about children too. Shudder for my future offspring, and say a prayer!

I went through a second round of petting the dogs and then left the room. Out in the hallway a Mom and her pre-teen daughter were staring in the kitten room and discussing which one they wanted to adopt. The brown-haired shelter worker was there, so I struck up a conversation with her. Her name was Kelly, and she was from Scotland (which I noticed her accent break through the more I talked with her.) Actually, confession: I don’t remember her name, but I’m pretty sure it started with a K and Kelly sounds Irish, which is close to Scotland, so there you go.

The shelter worker told me they had two rooms for dogs, and both were full, that there were too many people not taking care of their dogs. They also recently moved the adult cats to the cages and put the kittens in the kitty room because there were so many of them. I asked what brought her to the U.S., and she said she was a grad student in violin studies at UCO.

The mother/daughter duo wanted to go into the kitten room to take a closer look at their pick, and I asked to tag along, so we all got to go into kitty heaven. The kittens weren’t as desperate as the caged adult cats to be petted (and many were asleep), but I did give some love to about 10 little kittens. One of them, my favorite, had funky stripes all over his body and was sleeping in this hanging basket all by himself. He’s probably the cool kid of the group.

The mother/daughter team picked out their kitten, and I had no more areas to explore, so I called it a day and headed out. I did make a measly little effort to shoot for the better challenge, and texted several friends that I was at the shelter, it was simple and easy to adopt a pet, and if they wanted one they should come over and get one. I didn’t get any replies, though, so I guess I only accomplished the “good” challenge. I can’t say that I walked away from the shelter with any new revelations on pet adoption, but if I ever do decide to get a pet, I know the Edmond animal shelter is a great place to do that.

However, since the car wash theme of the challenge got me thinking about it, I did go wash my car that day. I got the medium-grade wash, too. ;)

Day 15 - Brian

Bio: Brian is a fascinating guy. He is a finance guru, fastidiously tidy, and appreciates fine architecture, quality furnishings, and exotic food. Yet, despite his love of order and cleanliness, he opens his home to having our church group over several times a year. He doesn’t begrudge us tramping dirt inside and leaving crumbs in his house, and willingly stays up super late to vacuum every square inch of carpet after we leave.

When I first met Brian, I thought he was quiet and a bit stuck up. Then I talked with him about life and spirituality, and found a really deep, wise friend. Brian comes at life through a different lens than I (and probably using a different side of the brain), but I appreciate how he takes the time to think things out, to really ponder on an idea or philosophy or dilemma. His actions carry the weight of forethought, and he is neither hasty nor foolish. He has given me much good advice and counsel. (Recent example. Me: I think I’ll get a faux hawk at my next haircut. Brian: [pause] I think those were popular last year.)

Plus, he has an automated tie rack that cycles through his impressive collection of ties at the push of a button. Every time we go over there we give tours of his closet. It is even on youtube. That tie rack is famous.

Challenge: Slide down at least 3 floors of the fire escape slide inside the City Place Tower (UMB Bank building) downtown. (Bring an old sheet or something to slide on – it’s likely very dusty.)

Reaction: WHAT????? Slide down … what??? How…why…wow. This is not what I expected from Uptown. I definitely re-read the challenge to make sure I wasn’t misreading it. Nope. This challenge came WAY out of left field. Can you use a fire escape without there being a fire? Is that even legal? Oh boy, it occurs to me I never told my challengers they had to stay legal. What if I set off a fire alarm in using the slide? That would be big trouble.

Of course, leave it to Brian to give me a ridiculous challenge in the most efficient way possible – the whole thing totals 33 words. None wasted. Of all my challenges, this could be the riskiest (at least legally.) I’m going to have to do a lot of research and reconn to make sure I can pull this off. Well challenged, Brian!

Recap: I started the day with a definite buzz from not knowing how the challenge would end up – success, failure, jail? There were lots of ways this thing could go. When I’m faced with a lot of uncertainty, I like to gather facts and gain as much knowledge as I can, so that is how I started. I did some google searching and utilized Wikipedia. A few of the online references mentioned that the City Place Tower did have a working fire escape, but as to where it was or what would happen if someone slid down it – nada. I learned that it is the original building’s fire escape and was built, along with the building, in 1931. It is a spiral slide spanning 33 floors. That’s some serious dizzy.

About mid-morning I texted three friends that work downtown to see if they had heard of doing this. Maybe it’s like a downtown worker’s initiation test. I mean, if Brian gave it to me as a challenge, it must be possible. Some people must have done it, and talked about it. Right?

The texts I got back did not encourage me. No one had heard of doing this. Not even a bit. Feeling desperation creeping on, I texted Brian (who was out of town) to see if he’d throw me a bone on some details. I also made plans to drive over to City Place Tower during lunch.

About 11:00 am, Brian responded back with the name of a local forum where folks post thoughts on life and work in OKC. I got on there and searched for city place tower. The forum coughed up a random collection of posts that I read through without finding any mention of fire escapes. I tried various combinations of search terms, with “fire escape” “slide” “City Place Tower” all sprinkled in, but again, nothing came up. I texted Brian back, feeling a bit betrayed that he sent me on a wild goose chase.

Right before lunch, he texted that there WAS a thread on the forum discussing sliding down the fire escape, and if I would just be patient, I could find it. So I took some time to read through pretty much every post I could find that looked like it MIGHT relate to my topic. And what do you know, several comment pages in to a discussion thread that started out talking about something completely different, I struck gold. The commentators on the site started sharing stories of sliding down the fire escape. No one gave specifics of where it was (one even went so far as to word her post as if she might or might not have done it. For legal protection.) From what I read, here are the facts. 1) several people have slid down, most while drunk 2) it is very dusty at the bottom, and 3) you pop out next to a security guard, so you better be ready to run. Great.

I wanted to survey the situation inside the skyscraper, so I drove over there on my lunch break. I was simply going inside to look around, but my nerves were already on edge. I kept thinking, “Don’t be so noticeable” as I walked around the sunny streets. Looking back on it, I’m sure whatever security measures are in place downtown, they aren’t watching EVERYONE, but I sure felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. Like I had a neon sign on my forehead that read “Warning! Criminal activity being planned!”

I walked into the lobby, which has a Cool Greens restaurant under construction on the left and UMB bank on the right. No security guards noticeable at first glance. I had decided ahead of time I needed to look like I knew where I was going, versus clearly wandering and staring. So I strode forward confidently and scanned for the elevators. I found them, and followed a herd of ladies returning from lunch into one. I stared at the rows of numbers and panicked at which one to push.

“Honey, I got somewhere to be,” one of the women prodded, though she smiled as if it were a joke. I jammed my finger into the mix of numbers and smiled tersely back at her. I looked down. Floor nine was my destination.

We dumped one woman on a lower floor, and then floor nine arrived. Keeping to my “cover” of being a legitimate visitor, I strode confidently off the elevator. I was in a long hallway with fancy paintings and wood paneling. A man was walking past me, and I looked for a reception desk to see if I would be watched. The man looked at me and stopped walking. “Can I help you?” he asked, without sounding like he really wanted to help me at all. I scrambled mentally, muttering something about enjoying modern architecture and seeking out a nice view of Oklahoma City’s downtown. “There’s no good view from here,” he said firmly. I took the hint and said, “Oh, sorry to bother you,” trying to match my tone to his so he’d know I wasn’t really sorry in the least. Defeated, I turned around and hit the “down” elevator button.

I traveled down to the sixth floor and got off again. This floor was more what I was looking for – a narrow hallway with offices leading off it. I think the ninth floor is one big office, so they can spot intruders instantly. Most of the other floors are a collection of offices that open off the hallway, so they don’t know who you are going to visit (and don’t ask questions). The offices on 6 were closed and no one was around, so I walked up and down the hall slowly, searching for any sign of a fire escape. I wasn’t sure if it would be in the center area of each floor, or if the slide was on one side of the building. Was it bricked up, covered over? Would I have to sweet-talk my way past a secretary to get to it? Six gave me no answers. I got back on the elevator.

I exited again on the second floor, not yet ready to give up, and then I discovered it. A map. A fire evacuation map! There, with a clear diagram, was the location of the fire escape stairs. And marked by a little triangle, it showed exactly where the slide was, close to the elevators in the center of the building. I turned around eagerly and located what I thought was the escape. On one wall was a door frame, but instead of doors inside, there were simply two pieces of wood painted to match the wall. They filled the door frame and met in the middle of it, as a door would, but without door handles. I surveyed the frame. I didn’t see any wires, and there was no marking on it. Nothing that said “Do not enter or alarm will sound.” No threats of legal action. Just a door frame with two pieces of wood. I stared at the entrance until I was satisfied I had surveyed it thoroughly. Content I would not set off a fire alarm, I returned to the elevator and exited on the ground floor.

My excitement at finding the entrance was hit with a reality check as I walked through the lobby. If they had security cameras (likely) then my face and my clothes were now documented as being in the City Place Tower. If I got away with sliding down the slide, but they went back through their security footage, they could find what I looked like. I could see the evening newscast perfectly: Linda Cavanaugh declaring the police were looking for a criminal suspect, and flashing my mug on the screen for my Mom and Grandma to recognize in horror.

I got in my car and drove back to the office, running through scenarios in my head. I texted my friend Jason (Day 1) because I knew he wasn’t working. “Dude, can you bring me a ballcap and sunglasses?” I asked. He sent back that he could. Good. Perhaps the powers that be would have some trouble linking me with the lunchtime footage if I looked different.

The end of the work day approached, and my nervousness and anticipation grew. Even though hardened career criminals like me know better, I told several folks at the office what I was planning. (Another symptom of nervousness. I get very loose lipped.) I got some raised eyebrows but also encouragements. After talking it over with co-workers, I decided I didn’t want to ride the slide all the way to the bottom floor. Trying to run after 33 floors is probably like running after turning around those baseball bats 10 times. You end up flopped over on your side from lack of balance. And while security guards don’t have legal authority to arrest you, they can call police officers who do. So it would be a partial ride for me. Then Jason arrived and dropped off the sunglasses and the hat.

At last the work day was done, and I drove over to downtown. I parked several blocks and a couple turns away. My escape strategy was to mix into the crowd and gradually get back to my car, so “they” wouldn’t get my license plate. I got my emergency flashlight and tow rope out of the back of my car and put them in a backpack, along with a towel (to slide on), a granola bar, and a back-up cell phone. I put the hat from Jason on, slung on the sunglasses, and walked towards the tower.

I entered the lobby but left the sunglasses on, staring at the floor and resisting the urge to look around the room for security cameras. I did stare at the wall next to the elevator where the fire escape should be, but it looked like a solid sheet of marble, so that is probably not where it lets out.

Following protocol, I hit the up button confidently and got on my ride. I pushed the button for the top floor – 33 – but it would not light up. I tried several more floors, but the highest you can go is 24. The top floors must be by access card only.

As the elevator rose, my pulse was pounding in my ears. I kept licking my lips and clearing my throat. The thought “I can’t believe I’m doing this” bounced around in my head. And then the little elevator chime sounded, and I was there.

I walked out of the elevator. Empty hall, with several offices leading off of it. They all looked deserted. I thanked heaven it was a Friday and everyone was probably gone. I stared at the two slabs of wood marking my destination. And then I ran into the bathroom to pee and try to calm down a little.

I washed my face and took several deep breaths, staring at myself in the bathroom mirror. “I only have to go down 3 flights,” I said aloud. “I’m not doing it if it feels rickety or unsafe. Besides, it’s a working fire escape. They have to test it and keep it safe.” My heart was still racing, but that was my best pep talk, so I grabbed my bag and walked out the door.

I took a few steps until I stood beside the fire escape entrance. No one was around. I put my hand on one of the wood pieces and pushed. Nothing happened. I pushed harder, and it creaked and then gave before me. Behind it was a small room, about the size of a closet, with a dull light shining on the wall, a low ceiling, and a large, gaping, black hole in the wall directly across from me.

I pushed the other side of the entrance open and stepped into the closet, letting the doors close behind me. They had handles on the inside, but were made to be pushed open from the outside. The light made me feel better about the safety of the slide – it was on when I entered, so the building crew must change the lights regularly and keep them lit. Which means they probably keep the slide working too.

I put my bag down and got out the towel and the flashlight. My light was pretty small, but I could see the slide curved fairly steeply down from the wall opening. It was metal, and the air inside was cool but didn’t have a particularly noticeable smell. So no one died in there recently, another plus. Part of me wanted to hesitate longer, and check it out more, but I knew the more I waited the more nervous I would get. So I got out the towel, draped it carefully in the slide, put my bag on my chest, and gingerly eased my way into the hole.

If you’ve been to the Bermuda triangle at White Water waterpark in OKC, you probably know how you can put your feet out and slow yourself down as you slide down the attraction. Same principle here. I had my hands and feet splayed out against the sides to keep me from moving as I prepared to begin my slide into the unknown. Once I had my towel properly spread out beneath me, I let myself slide a tiny bit down. I probably went all of three inches. I stopped. All my breathing noises and cloth rubbing against the slide echoed loudly around me. I took a deep breath and let myself slide further down in the tube, inching into the darkness.

The slide continued its steep curve, and as near as I could tell, it circles twice every floor. So after making one and a half circles down, I could see light ahead of me in the tube. I slid on, slowly, and found myself next to the entrance for floor 23. It looked exactly like floor 24 did – dull light, bare closet, big round hole to the slide. They built the slide so every floor has an entrance, which was good since I could keep track of how many floors I had been down by counting the lights I passed.

I was sweating slightly, but my first slide had gone fine. There was no shaking movement from the slide, no hidden nails or razor blades in the tube waiting to cut me. I picked up my feet and let myself slide a tiny bit faster into the darkness again.

I counted and am certain there are two circles between floors. As I neared the entrance for floor 22, my towel started to get away from me and my shirt pulled up from the slight corrugation in the tube, which meant my back caught on the metal. It was just a slight pull, nothing painful, but it again brought to mind the Bermuda Triangle ride. I can’t tell you how many times I lost my tube on that ride, and the seams of the plastic tunnel chafe your skin as you slide over.

I stopped, pushing out with my arms and legs to hold myself still, and adjusted the towel. I decided that it was time to man up, so this time I let go and really let myself slide. One floor passed, then two, then I passed an opening without a light, then three and four and five more. My head was getting dizzy, but my heart was elated – I was doing it! I was riding the forbidden fire escape. I passed one more floor and decided I had more than met the demands of the challenge, so I put out my hands and feet and stopped myself beside the next floor’s entrance. I pulled myself and my bag out of the hole a little shaky but very excited.

Of course, I still had to get out of the building, but I had a sense of victory now that even getting caught couldn’t dampen. I packed the towel and flashlight back up in my bag, then eased the door open slightly, Mission Impossible style.

The floor in front of me was clearly under construction. A cart with work supplies stood on one side of the room, while plastic sheeting with a layer of dust on top covered the floor. “Uh-oh,” I thought. If someone’s on the elevator when it opens, they will see me on a floor I’m not supposed to be on. Better hope the elevator’s empty for the ride down.

I pushed the elevator button, then ran back and hid in the fire escape closet. When the elevator doors opened, I watched the floor to see if the light shining out of the elevator had any shadows of people in it. It did not. I ran to the elevator, got inside, and rode down to the ground floor. I just had one more thing to do. I put my shades back on. When the elevator stopped, I sauntered off and walked out of the lobby doors, without anyone saying so much as a peep. Victory is sweet.

I recorded the following two video clips of this day’s challenge – I hope they work for you.

Did I mention i was sweaty?