When I heard about two young lawyers who planned to abseil down a skyscraper for charity, I was impressed. When I learned that they also fear heights, I thought this might be a spectacle worth watching.
I rang one of the brave young lawyers, Aaron Allegretto of Herbert Smith Freehills. We made arrangements so I could accompany him and his colleague, Ciara White of Corrs Chambers Westgarth, on the day. Aaron emailed to confirm:
“I have also arranged a ‘media’ pass … so that you can access the roof at the same time as us.”
To be considered ‘media’ was nice – despite the inverted commas – but never had I intended to go on a skyscraper’s roof.
I braced myself and met Aaron on the day, in reception of his firm – on the 38th floor.
“So which building is it?” I asked, looking out the window, “Chifley Tower … Governor Phillip …?”
“You keep looking up. Are you crazy?” he said. “It’s the AMP building, down there.”
“I thought you were going off Sydney’s tallest skyscraper.”
“Oldest skyscraper.”
I felt some relief.
“I’m scared of heights too,” I said.
“Just don’t you go freaking us out,” he said. “Now wait here while I change.”
Apparently, they planned to abseil as Power Rangers – and there had been quite a tussle over who was going as Pink. Aaron had lost, and re-emerged as the Red Power Ranger.
“Nice fake muscles,” I said.
“They’re not fake. Why does everybody say that?”
“Sorry.”
“It’s ok. Just zip me up.”
I obliged, and we set off to meet Ciara in the lobby of her firm. We found her in an overcoat.
“Now take that off!” said Aaron. “If I’m walking around dressed like this, so are you.” Ciara revealed herself as the Pink Power Ranger. Her costume was skimpy – far too skimpy for abseiling – and demanded leggings, and a skivvy, underneath. “I’m giving,” she explained. “But there are limits.”
I followed the strong and the skimpy – glad that Aaron wasn’t dressed as the latter – to the AMP building. We arrived just in time to watch a Mario and Luigi tumbling down the side of the building.
We took to the elevator, and then up some stairs, to the roof.
Abseiling training consisted of a ten-minute briefing. We had plenty of time to sit, and talk shop, and get nervous.
“I guess there are scarier things,” said Ciara. “Like my performance review … Or my mother coming to visit … Now don’t put that in your article.”
When it came time, Aaron and Ciara put themselves in the hands of the handlers, and, inspired by their courage, I found the will to step out near the edge to watch.
“These are the lawyers,” said one of the handlers checking over his list.
“Well I’m torn now,” said another, contemplating the rope in his hands, “Should I fasten this rope?”
Aaron and Ciara didn’t hear. They were too busy looking unwell. They looked even worse when they had to take that last backwards step off the ledge.
I watched them go over the edge, and then raced down, arriving just in time to see them hit the pavement.
“Was it fun?”
Apparently not. And, no, they would never do it again.
But they had done it – each raising thousands for charity.
“Next year,” said Aaron. “It’s your turn.”
No chance. But if you’re feeling brave, you can register here: www.sdmf.org.au/abseil