The State Street Predicament

A challenge To describe a word without using it.

Foty three storries of towering blue mirrored  glass, the building was massive. The otha skyscrapas along Boston's famous State Street banking area reflected off it's faceted angles like broken prisms of ahchitectural aht work. The soaring structia took up a complete city block. And ahh job was to clean the glass. 

 

Goergie and I swung the rig out over the abyss…the cahs on the street looked like moving chicklets and the people dots on the ground. It was a bit windy but nothing too concerning. What concerned me a little was the fact that the platfom we were about to get on, we had found out of its garage on the roof, meaning it had sat outside in the weatha for the last six months since we were heah last. The wirin' hahnesses were dry-rotted and cracked, and when I had used the controla to roll it along the parapet wall into position for the first "drop" the thing didn’t stop until two feet Afta I let go of the button. Hmmn, If it malfunctioned while we were over the side it could lead to a tricky situation. Well f**k it, Friday, payday, just get it done, go home and crack a beer. 

"Danny wuttaya doin' lets go muthfucka, the glass isn't gonna clean its f****n' self" Georgie liked to act like he was the boss…thank God he wasn't or I'd have pitched the f***a over the side of a building yeahs ago. We were ready to go, both of our safety lines (400'of rope each) and the power cord (same length, three times as heavy) for the motors on the ends of the rig coiled on the bed of the platform. The rig or "Swing Staging" was basically an aluminum platform about 20' long and 3' wide with a back rail and a push button wire rope motor at each end. Nothing in the front between you and the glass except at each end there was a thick plastic bar that hooked into a slot between the windows of the building that ran all the way down to the ground. The "T' bah as we called it held the platform to the wall so that the rig didn't swing out or back and foth. 

 

"So me and Donnie and Billie were up in the noth end laast night with three smokin' hot broads from Chelsea right.." 

We were down about 20 floors, it was a little waam but uthawise things were goin good, I was being regaled  with Georgie's f****n' fifth bullshit story when I noticed somethin' odd..The watah fallin' off my squeegee, stahted blowin back up onto the glass. First thought was 'F**k' Second thought was 'This could be a f****n' problem'

"Georgie the f****n' wind is stahten to pick up." 

"it's only supposed to be ten miles an houwa"

"Ya, unless yor in a giant f****n' wind tunnel of high rise buildins three hundred feet  off the f****n ground called State Street.

"what ahh you, a p***y?? It’s a little f****n' breeze, stop f****n' cryin' "

Just then a gust of wind came down the street and caught the safety lines over our heads and started lifting them from the bed of the rig. The power cord started swaying and Georgies hat flew by me and disappeahed somewhea  into the great city of Boston.

"Just a f****n' breeze" I glared at him

It stahted to pick up more, the lines were slappin' off the glass above us with a hollow thudding that gave  the predicament  we were in an alarming sense of urgency.

Georgie looked over at me, a little higha pitch to his voice now and says, "We gotta get the f**k off the side of this buildin'."

"Ya f****n' think??" I said. He was beginning to realize we were in a little hot watah.

 

The wind is steady now and buildin'

 

He's like,  "Lets go down, now."

"No lets go up."

"Its probably f****n' windiah up top Ahsswipe!"

"it's fatha down than it is up. dumbass"

"Yah but the closa to the ground we get if somethin happens they can get us off the f****n' buildin'"

"Ya but aftah three flaws up it doesn’t mattah how close to the ground  you ahh, cus when you hit it yor splatin' all ovah the sidewalk any-f****n'-ways."

 

A massive gust came flying down the street, lifted the whole rig literally two feet up and dropped it. Water and squeegees popped out of the buckets and fell away to the street below.  I felt my heart lurch up into my throat Georgie was clutching the back rail of the rig for dear life.

 

Georgie yells "F**k!!"

I say, "Up is closah Georgie."

"Okay lets go."

So theah we aah.. Riding this rig, collecting and coiling rope and power cord back in he bed as we go up, while its bouncing up and down bucking like it wants to throw us off. The wind is now roaring past my ears  at least fifty miles an houwa, dragging at ah clothes trying to push us ova  the rail. The lines and power cods were slammin' off the glass with enough foce to shatter it. I was so light that  each powaful gust, lifted the line and me up off the floor of the rig by my safety belt and threatened to pull me out into the limitless empty space that surrounded us on three sides. Georgie's face was ghost white, "I don't wanna die on this f****n' buildin' Danny!!"

"you don’t have a choice Georgie, it's gonna take you awr its not"

"F**k You!"

We were already in somewhat desperate straits, when the unthinkable happened…the wind picked us up twisted the rig and snapped off the "T" bars holding the platform into the building. Now we began swinging twenty feet in each direction to the sides. We started drifting out fiften feet from the building and flying back in slamming into the widow frames.

 

I was starting to get a bit nervous. This was quite the dilemma.

Georgie was screaming "F**K! OH F**K! OH F**K!!"

 

Soo hea ends my storry. My compatriots ah not paticulaly patient so lets just say that me and Georgie made it through the day…I think you can agree it was quite a…quandry

 

Reviews

[Lyricalfairydust]

Seems to me as a memory. A glimpse into the writers past and their thoughts and perception on their experience, that helped create this piece. A definite pickle I do not want to be in. Nice work.