I usually discount the compliment when most people say that I’m fearless or brave, “because of all the crazy adventures you do.” To me—and I understand that I’m wired differently than most—those words are made trite by the touristy nature of most of my adrenaline rushes. Thousands of people, some arriving by the bus load, have clicked through most of my vendors’ harnesses.
Even as late as landing in South Africa, I thought this trip wouldn’t get much further than a bunch of the kind of moments for which I’m known—the photos that look impressive on Facebook, the highlight videos enhanced by catchy songs, the paragraph-deep captions.
Then a scalper walked up to me on the sidewalk, offering me a what I later learned was a $6 ticket to a prime seat at an international soccer match. I had just canceled my week’s rental of a scooter; so, I had some unexpected money in the budget. I gave the dude $10, not even knowing whether it was a legitimate ticket or not.
That wasn’t planned.
My vacations are planned meticulously—for both cost and time. And that evening was supposed to be the night to recover from jet lag with an early bed time.
With 90 minutes until the start of the game, I explored the adjacent harbor area with a sense of spontaneity I don’t usually embrace. Self employment has made spontaneity on a weekday too expensive. With my leadership duties at church now including two hours in the heart of Saturday nights and at least three hours on Sunday mornings, I generally have to schedule my weekends in advance, too.
Cape Town’s Victoria & Albert Waterfront proved another giant strip of the fly paper I’ve seen in Annapolis, Monterrey, and Vancouver: wealthy people conspicuously eating under fancy awnings next to shops where the price tags have the wrong decimal place. Contrasting this was a very blue-collar wharf area, where the jump-suited sailors had to pass a breathalyzer at the gate to walk back into their work area.
I asked the gate guard at the docks if I could climb the container crane that hung over the stagnant water. Negative. I asked his manager. “It is not possible.” I grabbed a $2 sandwich from a tiny, chain deli and walked toward the stadium. That’s when I saw the cranes, particularly a yellow one about 15 stories tall. I circumnavigated the construction site fence until I found the open entrance gate and the night watchman.
“Do you think they’d let me take pictures up in that crane with the operator?”
He told me that I could ask the site supervisor in the morning, if I got there between 7:00 and 7:15. I snapped a picture of the crane on my phone and grinned much of the way to the stadium. I don’t know why my hope felt so confident.
Sitting in the stadium that had hosted Nelson Mandela’s memorial service just a few weeks prior and watching Africans dance and sing celebratory songs in unison after each goal, I felt like I had serendipity in my pocket.
Not only did I go to bed late that night, but I got up early—early enough to walk all the way to the waterfront and be sitting in the site supervisor’s office at 6:50.
Long story short, I signed an indemnity waiver, donned the required guest safety vest and my GoPro helmet, and found myself at the base of a 57-meter crane. “Are you afraid of heights?” Rudolph, the surprised crane operator, asked.
“Nope.” In that moment, I wasn’t. I was brimming with a childhood dream becoming a reality.
“Okay. Then follow me.”
The next half hour passed like one ride on an amusement park attraction, but it will live forever in my heart and mind. “Surreal” only starts the list of words I could use to capture my state of mind. You could also plug in “accomplishment,” “adventure,” “bravery,” and all the words I hear on Facebook and in my church atrium. Nobody pays to climb those cranes. Few, if any, climb them but professionals paid to climb them.
Back at my hostel, folks asked where I’d been; and I told them.
Responses included, “They let you do that!?” and “How did you arrange that?”
“I asked.”
There are some big lessons in there for me—professional, relational, and spiritual ramifications that I’ve been processing since then. But on my first morning in Cape Town, I made the rest of the trip unnecessary. This would not be topped. This would be the story of the trip.
Turns out, that may have been the best $10 I have ever spent.
