A couple of years ago, I had the chance to visit an observation deck at the top of a massive high-rise tower in Tokyo. I had travelled there on holiday with my younger brother, and going up this particular skyscraper was right at the top of our itinerary because everyone had told us the panoramic view was simply unmissable.
Getting up to the deck was an experience in itself. We boarded a high-speed lift that shot up to around the sixtieth floor in under a minute, which actually made my ears pop. As soon as the lift doors slid open, we walked into this vast, circular gallery with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view across the entire metropolitan area. Down below, the sprawling streets and intersections looked like a miniature model set, with tiny cars crawling along and people resembling ants. In the distance, on the horizon, we could even see the silhouette of snow-capped mountains against the clear blue sky.
To be completely honest, being up there was a mixture of sheer awe and mild vertigo. When I looked straight down through a section of the transparent glass floor, my stomach did a bit of a flip. But once I got used to the altitude, it felt remarkably serene, completely detached from the hustle and bustle of the streets below. We stayed up there for over an hour, watching the afternoon light fade as the city gradually illuminated with millions of glowing neon lights, which made it a truly memorable highlight of the trip.