Even as a kid, I had two left feet and my podiatrist, Ralph Bernard, was in the 450 Sutter Building. The best part of visiting was the elevator. Incased in the art decco lobby, this was as close to the Fun House as you could get without crossing 19th Ave. As any physicist will tell you, "it's not the fall that kills you, it's the sudden stop." The elevator at 450 Sutter would hit Mach II and stop on a dime, leaving your stomach two floors down. But the ride was worth it, because on the 14th floor you could see all over The City and feel like you were on top of the world. Somehow, we bought into the pyramid scam that Manhatanized SF and soon, 14 stories were mere chump change in high-rise currency. Besides, we needed a higher place to drop the Banker's Heart onto all those Bordeaux-swilling, BMW leasing dot communist at the beginiing of the new millenium...and we will be asking ourselves "why too que" for the next 1000 years. Sure, I marvel at the SF skyline, today, from all angles and feel lucky to have seen what was once a "town," growing into a "major metorpolitan world-class destination." But I haven't felt on top of the world since 1969.