“Between Mall Ceilings and Treetops”
Tresa Xavier

My brother egged me on to go first, knowing that I was comically terrified of heights. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I stood first in line. The instructor attached my harness to the cable and said “Ready?”

I was in South Africa with my family. We were here to zipline between the spectacular Hard Pear trees of the Tsitsikamma indigenous forest. After we watched a lengthy safety video and signed waiver forms, we were each issued a helmet, a pulley and a body harness. Then we checked out our equipment and drove past dense rows of tall, thin trees. Once we reached our “launch” destination, we climbed a hundred feet up a sloping bridge to a platform constructed in a tree. A large silver steel cable ran above the platform to another one about two hundred yards away. From up in the forest canopies, I could see acres of dark green foliage, branches and bark all around me. A glimpse below our wooden platform was enough to get my heart racing. We were so far away from the ground that I could no longer see the dried leaves on the forest floor.

Eyeing my equipment, I suddenly froze. The steel cable and the wooden platforms reminded me too much of the most embarrassing moment of my life.

#

It was the summer of 2012. I was fourteen years old, and back home in Dubai, United Arab Emirates. I was at Times Square Mall with a group of friends. The baby of the friend group, Nabeela, had finally turned thirteen, and we were celebrating her birthday at the mall. After watching “Journey 2: The Mysterious Island” and deeming it “just okay,” we were headed to the main reason Nabeela wanted to come to this mall in the first place: the high ropes obstacle course AdventureHQ.

AdventureHQ was a series of suspended obstacles between solid square wooden platforms. The entire infrastructure was hooked onto metal rods attached to the very ceiling of the sixty-foot mall. Nabeela was thrilled. Her dark eyes lit up as she jumped up and down. I was ready to throw up.

I was deathly afraid of heights. I eyed a pair of what seemed to be eleven-year olds clutching onto a pair of dangling tires as we walked towards it. How on earth did their parents let them do this?

It also strangely felt like everyone in the mall was watching the kids on the AdventureHQ obstacles. AdventureHQ was a relatively new establishment in Dubai and it was strategically positioned at the very center of the mall. People from both levels of the mall would peer over their banisters and ooh and aah at the action, some would even clap for those brave souls who made it past the final obstacle. My palms began to sweat as I tried to think of excuses so I wouldn’t have to do it.

If my friends were scared, they didn’t show it. They seemed just as excited as Nabeela, who was now sprinting towards the AdventureHQ ticket counter. I remained silent. I couldn’t be the only one to chicken out, now could I? Once Nabeela’s mom joined us at the counter and payed for all of our entry tickets, I couldn’t back out. I decided that I would push through my anxiety. Besides, nothing terrible could happen when a parent was around. Right?

So we began. I put on a helmet and stepped into my harness. A man attached the rope hanging off my harness to a thick metal wire and gently ushered me forwards. Nabeela went first. I trailed behind, trying not to let the terror show on my face. My friends followed behind me. The first obstacle was an upward slope made of thin canvas that took us from the bottom of the mall up to the rest of the obstacles. Easy. I held onto the rope railings and cautiously made my way to the first square post. I tried to ignore how close I was to the glossy yellow and brown checkered ceiling. I could see the entire mall from my vantage point, the tops of sleek metal infrastructure and the fluorescent light bulbs. There was a Caribou coffee and a Baskin Robbins to my left.

With wobbling knees, I surveyed the rest of my course. The next few obstacles – a series of vertical ladders with wide spaces between the rungs and dangling vertical tires. I stood back for about a minute and watched in disbelief as I watched Nabeela expertly swing her foot from rung to rung or tire to tire, and then hoisted her small body to the next one. Had she done this before?

I took a step forward. Clinging to metal chains and black ropes and praying as much as I could that I wouldn’t fall, I somehow pushed my way through tires and ladders. It was almost easy once I found a rhythm. Left foot. Grab rope. Right foot. Left foot. Grab rope. Right foot. I finally made it to the pièce de résistance: the final zipline obstacle. This obstacle did not have a tire or ladder between each wooden square post. I would have to run from my wooden square, and jump, with enough velocity would be enough to slide my body onto the slightly lower wooden square, marking the completion of the terrible AdventureHQ. I watched Nabeela squeal and she whooshed by, catching the lower wooden square with her feet and stepping onto it. She was met with scattered applause. That meant I was next.

The world began to spin. The final wooden square blurred as my heart started beating fast. I could feel the birthday cake rising in my throat.

“Come on Tresa” my friend Jasmine said, who was patiently waiting for me to get on with it.

Swallowing my nausea, I tuned out the mall chatter and the stares following my every action. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and jumped hard. Whoosh. Clunk. Halt. My feet slammed into the edge of lower wooden platform and bounced off. To my horror, I opened my eyes and found myself swinging between both wooden posts, right above the Baskin Robbins. I was dangling from the ceiling, like a pendulum, sixty feet off the ground in the middle of the mall. I was never more terrified in my entire life.

The crowd had burst into laughter. My friends, Nabeela’s mom and a bunch of bystanders cackled as they watched me helplessly twist in place. I remember Nabeela yelling “Best birthday ever!” After fifteen seconds, the laughter turned in to panic. Nabeela’s mom, after regaining her composure, barked “Will someone help the girl?”

After what seemed to be ages, a man pulled over a giant ladder, climbed up and pushed me to the lower wooden stop. I found my footing and finally stepped onto the wooden square. I was met with resounding applause, cheers and wolf-whistles. I sarcastically took a bow, threw off my harness and ran to safety.

#

“Come on Tresa!” my dad said, snapping me out of my thoughts. I was back in South Africa, up in the canopies. It was time to zipline. Nudging my old memories away, I held on to silver rope that hung off my harness, let the instructor push me, and jumped.

Time froze. My scream died in my throat as I glided smoothly through the air, past leaves and bark. Clutching on to my harness for dear life, I squealed as I snuck a peek at the forest floor that was down below in the gap between my extended legs. The wind beat my face hard, pushing my stray hairs back. Panic turned into glee as I landed on to the next post and into the arms of another instructor, who unhooked my harness from the wire. I yelled out of joy, I did it! Fourteen-year-old Tresa would have been so proud of me. In the middle of my victory dance, I realized that I would have to zipline nine more times. With renewed confidence, I smiled and followed the rest of my group to the next ziplining post.