Before I arrived in France, I eagerly anticipated seeing its various attractions. Locations such as the Louvre and Giverny had long been the stuff of my dreams. Yet, in all of my excitement about what France had to offer, I did not give the Eiffel Tower much of a thought. Despite its iconic status, and the fact that it practically defines Paris, I felt no strong desire to climb the famous tower.
But somehow the Eiffel Tower’s enchantment got the better of me as I approached the famous structure. I experienced a mixture of pleasure and awe as I came into the presence of Paris’s largest and most romanticized monument. As I stood under the tower in total amazement (nothing could have prepared me for its massive size), I heard someone say that going to the top of the Eiffel Tower was one of those things people should try to do before they died. From this moment forward, I was sold. I determined to make my way to the top. I would not let my trip in Paris pass without taking part in one of its most sought after experiences.
Until now, I had no idea just how sought after the summit of the Eiffel Tower was. I found myself in a line of epic proportions. I wondered at the multitude of eager tourists in front of me, as another multitude quickly lined up behind me. All the while, the line inched forward slowly like a mile-long centipede made of human beings. I stood in that line for what seemed like almost the same amount of time it had taken me to get to Paris from Florida. All the while, I anticipated the magical feeling I would experience when I finally stood at the top of this world-famous structure. Although I had no specific ideas of what the top would be like, I knew that being there would be unforgettable.
But much to my dismay, when I finally arrived at the ticket counter, I found out the third floor had been temporarily closed. I felt dismayed—I did not come all the way to Paris and the Eiffel Tower to go only half way. However, the second floor and the magnificent view it promised still held some appeal. So I bought my ticket and found myself in yet another line to get into one of the tower’s bright yellow lifts. When I entered the lift, I panicked because I could not reach any of the handles or bars to keep my balance. But I did not panic for long because the lift soon filled up to its maximum capacity, and I became packed in as tightly as one of the items in the full suitcase I had brought to Paris. Surrounded by strangers standing so close that we touched, I was in no danger of falling or losing my balance.
Along with a mass of people, I stepped out of the lift only to be surrounded by another mass of people who had already arrived at the second floor observation deck. The view—to use the cliché—took my breath away. All of Paris sprawled out around the tower in miniature form. The only problem was finding a space to enjoy this unique view of Paris in its entirety. People were literally everywhere. They crowded the edge of the observation deck like a bunch of eager fans crowding the stage at a rock concert. Being short in stature, I struggled to see over the swarms of people. Fortunately, I eventually got a few pictures, admired the view, and prepared to make my way back down to earth.
However, to my delighted surprise, I found out that the third floor had opened up again. Despite the daunting lines I would face and the extra money I would pay for another ticket, I made the decision to continue to the top, determined to live my newfound dream of scaling the Eiffel Tower.
The journey to the top was a blur of lines, lines, and more lines. Likewise, being at the top was a blur of people, people, and more people. Again, the view was magnificent. But this time, finding a space to admire this most coveted view proved to be even more difficult, due to the third floor’s limited amount of space. I tried to bask in the thrill of this most anticipated moment, but some of the Eiffel Tower’s magic had already begun to fade. For some reason, pushing through a crowd of tourists and struggling to enjoy a nice view for a few seconds don’t fit my definition of a magical experience. After a few pictures and much bumping and jostling amidst the boundless crowd, I headed for the lift to make my way back down.
Unfortunately, getting down from the Eiffel Tower proved to be a challenge equal in magnitude to the challenge of getting up. I stood in yet another line for the lift, surrounded by people from at least a dozen different countries. As I waited and listened to conversations going on in a plethora of different languages and accents, I mourned the fact that so many people had all decided to come to the Eiffel Tower on the same day. The top probably would have been more enjoyable without so many people. However, I soon realized that I contributed just as much to this problem as anyone—just another nameless, faceless tourist in this vast mob.
These thoughts soon gave way to the one thought that dominated my mind—escape. My hopes of ever seeing the lift began to wane. All the while, the tower’s thick criss-cross bars began to seem less like a dream and more like a prison. I finally stood on the famous monument’s floor and breathed its air—and all I wanted was out. When I finally arrived at the ground floor and exited, I felt an overwhelming sense of freedom. I ran out of the tower, rejoicing like a little kid who has just been let out of school.
Despite my newfound disillusion with the monument, I still went to see it on my last night in Paris. The Eiffel Tower becomes quite a spectacle when fully lit. I slowly made my way to the overlook to admire the famous Parisian light show. The gold cast of the tower set against the black night sky and punctuated by bright flashing lights slowly enraptured me. All of the tower’s inexplicable enchantment began to return, as I witnessed the Paris of my dreams. My experience had finally come full circle. I had observed the Eiffel Tower from all angles and perspectives. I had seen its good, bad, and ugly sides. In short, I had come a few steps closer to understanding the allure of the monument that is Paris.
