The plan had been to get on the fire escape and take it up the building prodding for an open window or door. As I woke to small shards of sunlight poking through the hotel curtains I knew that was no longer an option. Rumor was the building had a guard. Though we knew nobody was watching the feed from the cameras which covered the alley, climbing up a fire escape in the daylight in downtown Detroit would really have been asking for it. There was only one way. A last resort that was reserved only for the most desired of targets. We would try to bribe the guard.

Injekt looked through the glass door, spotted the man, and knocked loudly to get his attention. What followed was a good ten minutes of the best persuasive speak the six of us could muster. At first the man, who clarified that he was no guard but rather an engineer, was having none of it. “the upper floors are too dangerous, I just can’t let you guys up there.” We poured it on heavier. We were out of town photographers and architecture enthusiasts. We had our hopes riding on seeing it. And wasn’t it such a beautiful building and we wouldn’t hurt anything or take very long. I think I mentioned something about it being the only abandoned italian renaissance skyscaper in existence. We bargained. We would settle for just the 15th floor, we said, for it had row of Caryatids which was a major architectural artifact. He relented, partly. We were only to go the fifteenth floor and not beyond. To ensure our compliance he limited us to only one hour. “Whatever you do get back down here within an hour.” We promised and swore and assuaged his doubts.

We immediately commenced hauling ass to the roof. We were grateful for the caretaker’s willingness to let us in but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. The roof was the prize and we would have it, time limit or not. We ran. Two, three steps at a time we ran up those steps. Thirty-Eight flights of stairs plus a couple ladders and we were at the tip top of the slanted copper roof. A standard hatch and a 4 foot wide strip of tarpapered platform made this the smallest I had been on. We soaked it in briefly, we were on the clock, under the gun. “How much time?” “45 minutes, we made it up really quick.” Sweet. Some got to taking pictures, others explored the large electrical panels and winches and other machinery that sat beneath the pointed roof. I went down a level and began to scramble over the ledge of stone which surrounded it.

The bright early morning sun made photography a but more difficult than usual. I had to bracket everything. Sometimes having to block the sun with my hand I would then have to take another shot so I could remove my intruding fingers from the blue sky. I passed a couple of my friends on my way down to the fire escape. “Time?” “Another 20 minutes but I might say fuck the limit.” I had no qualms about disobeying the caretakers instructions about the upper levels but I did want to make the time limit. He might have a boss showing up then and I didn’t want to reward his kindness with trouble. I soon found myself alone at the higher levels and later regrouped at the 15th floor where we did indeed take a moment to appreciate the naked ladies holding up the roof of the low rise building to which the high rise was attached. With heavy steps we sprinted back to the lobby level with a couple minutes to spare. Some shot the lobby up with flashes and shutter clicks. We thanked the caretaker, offered him a pooled bit of cash which he refused, and exited. From there we split up and said our goodbyes. For the other four it was on to more Detroit and later Gary and Chicago. For the girl and I it was an uncertain crossing into Canada.