27

I met Bridget at the coffee shop/dry cleaner where Carnegie and Prospect split.  She was carrying a backpack slung over her right shoulder – something I never would have expected to see her with, a backpack, and something which, in retrospect, which I wished I’d had.  She saw me looking at it and recognized complicated thoughts.  “I know, right?” she said, and then, “You’ll be fine.”

“Sweety,” as we walked, “I know you’ll be fine, but you can’t be a tourist for at least the next two hours.”

I knew what she meant, but I still got defensive.

“So are there any rules I should know about?”

“Oh, lots,” she said, as if she’d anticipated the question, as if it was part of the regular script.  “Like, for one, you have to expect danger, but don’t be stupid about it.  If you think something is dangerous, stop and decide whether what you’d get out of it is worth the danger, and how bad the danger really is.  If it’s just falling on the ground, then it might not be a big deal.  If it’s falling off of a rooftop, then unless you’re, like, getting bricks of gold or the key to the city then don’t do it.”

When she was describing this it sounded straightforward, but she paused for a second and looked at me, and I realized that it was almost a metaphor for how she lived her life and how most people do exactly the opposite.  Then we stopped and looked across East 55th, down toward the weird gas station and then the ambulance lot.

“That’s a good rule,” I said.

“So rule number two: if you do get hurt, if it isn’t life-threatening or crippling then we can go on.

“Rule number three: if you see something that might be dangerous, tell me immediately because I might not see it.

“Oh oh oh,” I said, pointing at the building.  She almost smiled.

“Rule four: take pictures of everything.

“Rule five: don’t break anything you don’t have to break.

“Six: if there’s a lot of dust and dirt, don’t disturb it until it’s been photographed.

“Seven: if you run into anyone, assume that they are either dangerous or can put you in jail.
“Eight: if we do see someone, either hide or run unless you can tell they’re also just exploring, in which case see if you can join forces with them.

“Nine: turn your phone to silent unless we get separated, and then turn it to vibrate.

“Ten: Once we get inside, make a lot of noise if it looks like a place people might live. Don’t fuck with homeless guy’s shit either. If there’s a corner that’s obviously full of his junk and mattress, leave it alone.

“Eleven: Stay within shouting range of your partner. Always have a partner.

“Twelve: Do not climb on fire escapes.  Ever.

“Thirteen: Do not take really cool stuff, leave it for the next person to see too.”

The thirteen rules of exploring abandoned buildings, as delivered by Bridget Callahan.

We were walking past the place that looked like a natural entrance now and she didn’t give any indication that we were turning into it at any point.  From behind she had a jolly swagger, and I knew she enjoyed being in control of something like this.  I looked up at the massive overhang, the imposing walls, and thought that when it was operating it must have been full of constant humming, with immigrant laborers lifting, dropping, pushing, pulling, destroying and making things for the world.

We kept walking, though, and when we got to the bridge she looked to each side and started crossing the street, getting to each support post and then to the sidewalk on the south side.  Then she turned back and started looking to each side again to cross.  I took a step toward the street again but she put her hands back; anyone may have thought she was reaching out for my hand but I recognized it as a sign to stop.  When the road was claer, she turned around again and made a nimble leap up to the top of the concrete support and behind the steel pillar.  I realized that she’d been checking to see if the coast was clear and, trusting that I wouldn’t fall, I scrambled up behind her, then swung behind the pillar before anyone could see me.

Invisible from the sidewalk was a rusted lattice walkway behind the pillar, flush with the wall, and she’d already walked ten fet down it.  Twenty feet away I saw a stairway going up and followed it with my eyes through two turns to the level of the railway above.  Bridget couldn’t conceal her excitement anymore and turned around, beaming.

“Pretty sweet, huh?”