The first time I went to Paris, I was 17 years old and unhampered by parents or other family. You can imagine the kind of things I did. But I didn’t go up the Eiffel Tower. In 15 further years of visiting that wonderful city, I still didn’t. It took John’s first visit to Paris (as an adult) to make me do it.
And when I finally did, I was so appalled by the swaying and creaking that I just stayed on the first level. I freaked out as unobtrusively as possible while John, who had been deprived of going to the top as a child, merrily went up with the camera and had a great time.
Now that I’m working high up in the Transamerica Pyramid, I haven’t noticed the swaying (if any; I hope not), but I am constantly noticing the constant creaking. Disturbing.