The view of the GW, from there, was like something I would normally expect to see in an action movie (although, from much closer). I put the video on YouTube, and it can be seen here:
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Here's something from the description of the video:
The George Washington Bridge, at night -- I had a view like one from the movies. Of course, my digital camera was not able to capture the bridge, and its roving light, in all its glory.
I am putting up this video primarily to store it for a future occasion, because I loved that scene.
Of course, my liking that view, combined with my vantage point (on one of the highest points on that building), combined with the anticipation of seeing a meteor shower, combined with the exhilaration of having climbed up (literally) to that vantage point, combined with the vertigo of being on a sloping rooftop (though, slightly) while looking down at an injurious drop altogether made for such a wonderful experience, I think this video has significance for me that is well beyond my words. Unfortunately, that significance will probably be lost on anyone else who might choose to watch this video. Perhaps, then, I have most fittingly chosen the soundtrack that goes with this video: it is the second (and last) song played during the closing credits of the movie: "The Hurt Locker" (2008, released in 2009).
O, and yes, that feeling I got on the rooftop is a drug, and that rush I got up there may well be "a potent... addiction," as Chris Hedges is quoted in the movie (though, he was talking about war).
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I think I have always liked being on a high place, with a good vantage point. Perhaps I got this from having lived at my grandmother's place, when I was younger: I used to climb atop the roof, with my cousins, and the highest point on the roof was about the size of a very small room, and its boundary wall/railing was perhaps half a foot high. On two sides of that plateau was a drop of about head height, on one side the drop was about two head heights, and on the opposite side of that the drop was four stories (that is three stories, if you are British). I remember, my cousins and I used to go there, and lounge around, casually, and it was the most normal thing in the world. Most of the time the cousins whom I went up with were girls, BTW, so I was not fulfilling some crazy boyish fantasy. I used to go there from the time I could climb (onto railings), till the time I was five (after which I moved).
I think my love of being at a high vantage point has stayed with me, since then. When I was in Grade 2, and school was suddenly closed for a few day because some locally important political figure (well, basically, a rich and powerful tribal leader) died, as soon as I was dropped off by the school bus I crawled (through the unoccupied hole where the air conditioner used to sit) into an the abandoned office of a local driving school (at the corner of my apartment block), crawled up the stairs (so as not to slip and fall over the mess they had made on the stairs) and peered out the air conditioner hole that I had been eying from outside. I knew it was risky to be outside, alone, given the rowdy local population of refugees who had arrived during and after the First Gulf War (they were middle school bullies, practically terrorizing the neighborhood, whom the police did not do anything about), but I figured that as long as I kept my head low (literally) I would not be spotted. I was careful not to venture too far into the air conditioner's hole, left I be seen from outside -- knowing that there was really only one entryway to the place, I did not fancy getting cornered, and beaten up. I stayed there, for some time, enjoying my own little vantage point, knowing that I was on higher ground (higher than the pavement, anyway), with relatively quick access to the outside, and that I could observe, without being observed. It felt good to have found that place by exploration. At some point I heard the sounds of voices. They were Arabic words, and the voices were those of some of the local bullies. They sounded rather close to where I was. I knew that if I tried to escape then I would get spotted, and those guys were far better runners than I was. I knew that jumping out the air conditioner's hole was not an option. So, I stayed put, being quiet. Soon, they, too crawled in through the hole, downstairs, and I realized that my only hope for safety was to say real silent, and to stay put. I knew that getting caught by them in an enclosed space was the last thing I wanted. I also knew that if they came up then I would surely be caught. So, I could either try escaping, and surely get caught, or stay put, and hope that they do not come up. I took my chances with the latter, because I figured that the group of three voices would not be interested in the more cramped confines of the upper floor, which was even messier than the bottom floor. If I had understood their language I would have felt like an eavesdropper. Of course, I was so confident that I was safe from detection, upstairs, that I was not even frightened. My heart did not go racing, and when they left I did not even feel a rush. I only had that quiet satisfaction of having found a vantage point. Some times after they had left, when I was sure they would be far enough away from the building to not spot me coming out, I got out, and went home. Come to think of it, I was happy with my little adventure that for a long time I entertained the idea of becoming a military sniper. I even tried joining the US Army during my sophomore year of college. Of course, there were some legal barriers to my entry, and so I did not go. When my boss at my second internship asked me what kind of position I would like to have taken had I joined the military (he figured I would have liked that, given my interest in parkour) I told him I would have liked being something of a stalker, getting closer to the enemy than the rest of the larger force, observing, reporting, and taking out important targets. He likened my description to the role of an artillery forward observer (which was perhaps not that far off), though I now think (after having read Gary Shcroen's "First in: an insider's account of how the CIA spearheaded the war on terror") I would have liked a role more akin to that of the troops painting ground targets with lasers, for aerial bombardment. They get pretty up close, and personal. Of course, after paintballing, I like CQB, and right now I am not 22 anymore, so I am not joining any military.
I'm not sure where my passion for high vantage points and exhilarating vertigo will take me next, but I do fancy climbing (like many who have done it before me) the spires of Gothic buildings. Heh heh!
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