If you want to experience a kind of hell on earth, head to the Eureka Towers observation deck on a Saturday afternoon.

Skydeck 88, as it’s known, is a blight on the tourist trail and does Melbourne no justice at all. If you were ever labouring under the illusion that Melbourne is a pretty or an awe-inspiring city, then take a look from the Eureka Towers vantage point: from 88 floors up the entire city and its surrounds looks like the suburb of Bayswater.

However, the real attraction for those visiting Skydeck 88 is ‘The Edge Experience’; a glass cube which extends three metres out from the actual building. They call it a ‘ride’, and there’s a warning that if you suffer from claustrophobia, acrophobia or dislike loud and sudden noises you should not enter. Ignore this advice, as I think you could be in the middle of a stroke and still not be shaken by this so-called ‘experience’.

However, the real problem with this place is the people; and this is really where the story really begins.

Behind my girlfriend and I in the queue for The Edge Experience was John, his girlfriend, and their friends. It was a double date which both couples seemed to see as a competition; the winner of which was the pair who demonstrated the greatest degree of public affection. John and his girlfriend won hands down, excelling in the categories of baby talk and audible kissing.

This was only interrupted by John’s litany of inane comments such as, “Hey there’s my house”(pointing at the Shrine), and, “If you took a run up and jumped out the window, how far do you think you could fly before falling?”

Already I was so tense my skin had turned shell-like, when this came: “This is the first time I’ve ever worn one of these,” John said, referring to the rubber bracelet that served as your ticket into The Edge.

“Oh really, why is that?” Girlfriend asked.

“Because they’re gay,” John guffawed.

How a rubber bracelet was a symbol of homosexuality I had no idea, and before I could ask John to clarify, his girlfriend playfully said: “Well, the other night you came home with a tear in the back of his boxer shorts; is there something you need to tell me, John?”

At this, a palpable sense of heightened excitement came over the group, resulting in lots of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ and a sing-song chorus of  “Yes John, is there something you need to tell us?”

This routine went on and on. I wanted to kill it with an innocent suggestion of “Gee, do you think John here may have been fucked up the arse?”

But before I could, it was our turn to ‘ride’ The Edge. The real terror for me now was that John was going to ask his girlfriend to marry him, as that glass cage is apparently now the number one proposal spot in Melbourne.

We entered. The thing shook and shuffled its way out from the viewing deck, and I went into a sweat about how I was going to look happy for them when he did get down on one knee.

However, he took not her hand, but his mate’s.

At this point, John’s comedic virtuosity provoked the group into such hysteria that tears flowed from their eyes. Also at this point, my girlfriend desperately clutched my arm and whispered through gritted teeth, “Get me out of here!”

As I said, it was a kind of hell on earth.

There is a universal obsession with gayness, and not just among the Christians. For people like John and friends, the jokes and the inferences are a great source of merriment. I don’t know how far John would get if he flew out the window of the Edge Experience, but I sure wanted to see him try.

Photo: Tourism Victoria

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