A not so splendid sight to behold

Not for it’s breath-taking views or meticulously sculptured stone, nor for the unimaginable angle at which it stands shall I remember it. As the first time I’ve crawled on my knees through a handful of questioning people is how I shall instead remember this famous campanile. It’s unintentional tilt, capturing my inquisitiveness from a young age, meant the opportunity to climb it came as a rare yet thrilling privilege. Stood in the queue with toes tapping in an exhilarating buzz of excitement, and as a means through which to prolong the numbness taking it’s tole in the cool January air, I struggled to contain myself. Each step a step closer to the wooden door at the foot of the tower, which enclosed all number of historic tales.
When finally arriving at the heavy door, propped open by a young beaming boy who appeared to have more teeth than face, the thick, stoney scent descended upon me. It filled every inch of my lungs, instilling a new kick of adrenaline. I could sense the years of history and fastidious effort that went into the craftsmanship of this wonderfully innate artifact. Lifting my foot, I began the ascent up one of the finest and well-known buildings in the world, displaced horizontally by 3.9 metres.
Having marveled at the breathtaking views from the Eiffel Tower, Empire State and Table Mountain, the prospect of heights meant nothing to me but after twenty or so steps up this particular attraction, an unexpected feeling of queasiness washed over me. My feet struggled to grip the stones beneath and I could feel myself slipping into a merciless pool of panic and despair. Clad in two pairs of fluffy socks and ‘UGG’ boots I certainly looked the part for this bone-chillingly cool morning, but it soon became apparent I was not at all prepared for glazed stones underfoot. I gripped the hand rail tighter, the frozen black metal piercing through my soft, supple skin like a hot knife puncturing a slab of chilled butter. Could the combination of my weight and foam-soled shoes pull me onto the ground? I made the hasty decision to tackle the remaining steps on my knees, which turned out to be one of the best choices I had made in a long while.
This was the day I crawled up the Leaning Tower of Pisa, much to my embarrassment and dismay. This is the day I will never forget, it is etched into my memory as the day I could not behold the breathtaking views of Pisa but instead beheld views of the footwear that covered the bell tower floor.