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He laughs. “They’ve fixed them.”
“So they don’t break necks anymore?”
“Exactly. It’s just up this way.” He nudges his head to the left, and I follow his lead. “We could also take a funicular up, but we have to get up the giant hill to go back to our hotel one way or another.”
“Say that again,” I say.
He scrunches up his nose. “What? Take the funicular?”
“Funicular. That’s one of my top ten favorite words.”
He laughs. “What else makes the list?”
“Discombobulate.”
“Kind of weird, but fun to say,” he responds.
“Um...epiphany.”
He nods in approval.
“Incandescent.”
“Oh, I like that one. Got any more?” he asks.
“I’ll keep thinking.”
He points in front of us. “Stairs or funicular.”
The line for the funicular is long so I say, “Stairs.”
I look up – way, way up to the top of the stairs. “I see how they got their name.”
“Well, it used to be worse. Apparently stairs are hard to build.”
I laugh. “I had no idea. Let’s take the new and improved stairs.”
We start up the steps and he says, “I guess they used to be steeper.”
“Steeper than this?”
“And, people hadn’t figured out landings yet, so if you fell from the top. You fell the whole way down.”
I stop and look down to the bottom of the stairs. “Ouch.”
“Hence the name.”
“Right.”
“Apparently a lot of drunken sailors met their demise on these steps,” he adds.
“Oh, that makes sense too. I don’t think I’d want to tackle even these new steps drunk.”
He takes two quick steps to get to the top and looks back, “I win.”
I’m breathing heavily. “Didn’t realize it was a race.”
He takes my hand and helps me up the last two steps. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you on these steps drunk.”
