The other night, I went to a party celebrating the twentieth anniversary of a company I frequently do work for. It was quite an affair. Women were asked to wear cocktail attire and men were asked to wear suits for drinks and hors d’oeuvres, dinner and music on the 99th floor of the Willis (formerly Sears) Tower, the tallest building in North America.

Speeches were made and stories told of the company president’s odd jobs before he became a very successful consultant. Thanks were shared generously. Company officers were acknowledged for their hard work while steering the enterprise through economic challenges. Staff and regular contractors were applauded for consistently delivering on client expectations.

It was fun to see co-workers dressed up for the occasion and to see spouses that I had only heard about before. They gave away programs with notes of congratulations from key clients and city politicos, even the mayor. It was nice to feel like a part of the company’s success story, especially since I am not on the official payroll.

After dinner, they had a few special things planned. A mini casino — with craps and blackjack tables and a roulette wheel – was set up along one glass wall. Professional croupiers changed gifted play money for chips and patiently supervised our harmless gambling adventures. And guests were escorted, ten or so at a time, to a private elevator for a short ride to the 103rd floor, the actual observation deck. There, we were invited to step onto a clear fiberglass enclosure, a ledge that jutted out six feet from the face of the skyscraper, so that souvenir photos could be snapped. The pictures made us look like we were floating over the city.

I have been up to the observation deck many times, often escorting teen groups or busloads of seniors touring Chicago, but this night it felt like a new experience. Normally not too thrilled about heights, I summoned up my courage and, like most of the other ladies, made silly comments about the people below being able to see up our dresses. Somehow, in such an intimate group, all of us having a good time, stepping onto the ledge was not as hard as I thought it would have been.

And the view of the city – it was breathtaking!

We could see in every direction. Whether sipping cocktails on the 99th floor or strolling around the top floor waiting our turn to go out onto the ledge, we enjoyed genuine 360⁰s. That in itself is pretty remarkable. How often can you see in every direction? From such a vantage point, you can see how different things affect each other. You can become mesmerized by the flow of traffic or the twinkling of street lights. You can identify patterns of movement or concentrations of objects. Invariably, I felt compelled to try and identify landmarks, buildings or streets or parks that look so different from ground level.

And I found myself shifting between looking at things broadly and viewing things in fine detail. I delighted in my ability to go back and forth. I would look out the window from fourteen hundred feet in the air and see a backdrop of lights and objects and space that I knew from a different perspective as the United Center or the Dan Ryan Expressway or Milwaukee Avenue. Then I would look at my glass and observe, with a sense of wonder, how the squeezed out wedge of lime was disintegrating. Or I’d look at the faces of my co-workers and feel genuine surprise over how the top of the Tower’s moody lounge lighting made them look so different than the people I’d see around a conference table.

During my few seconds on the ledge, smiling for the camera and squeezing my boyfriend’s hand, I thought about why I try to get a window seat when booking air travel. I love looking at the world with panoramic vision because it seems to make me see little things within arms’ reach so much more acutely.

Seeing the world from the top of the tallest skyscraper in North America is no small thing.