Not afraid of small dark spaces

WEEK 31

I mutter these words to myself as I stand, ticket in hand, in front of the Tactile Dome at the Exploratorium in San Francisco. The ticket comes with a disclaimer in big bold font: you must be able to crawl, climb and slide in total darkness. No fear of the dark. No claustrophobia.

No more excuses, I say! Curiosity finally wins the battle.

Trying this new experience has been on my list for months. Each time I consider going, anxiety prevails. What if I have to crawl on my stomach? What if I touch something disgusting? Will I really be in complete darkness? Will they hand me a panic button for quick extraction? What if I’m SURROUNDED BY CHILDREN?

The Exploratorium website has a copy of the original press release when the Tactile Dome first opened in 1971. It’s a fascinating read, even today. As I made my way along the Embarcadero to the museum, I thought about this idea that we rely overwhelmingly on our visual sense—especially to define what’s real. Yet as the release points out – and a key purpose of the exhibit – it’s the ability to touch that is the truest test of reality.

I entered the Exploratorium (overflowing with hundreds of kids) and very quickly realized that Burning Man is like an Exploratorium for adults in the wild. I imagined everyone wearing crazy costumes, covered in dust, working their way through science experiments…

Surprisingly, there were quite a few adults and older teens in line for the 2:30pm entry to the Tactile Dome. How did they hear about this, I wondered? What drew them in? I guess curiosity comes in all shapes, sizes and ages…

The Tactile Dome attendant led our group of 11 into a small ante-chamber, with low lighting and moody music. We stored our shoes along with purses, phones and things in small cubby holes. Our young guide (he’s been working the Dome since it re-opened at the Pier 15 location in 2013) explained — as best he could — what we might experience. It’s not a maze. There’s one path. It’s impossible to get lost. He can reach any part of the dome in a few seconds. And, he monitors our movements with an infrared camera, so if he senses any distress, he will come to the rescue. He did caution that we should expect to feel disoriented. Even after six years, he said, he’s always struck by how foreign it can be. It’s not for everyone.

Also interesting (and unexpected), the attendant divided us into groups of friends or family – or singles if alone. He explained that he starts a new group (or individual) when the prior group is half-way through. No running into strangers or accidentally groping (or getting groped by) people you don’t know. Ok, that is a huge relief.

I was the seventh person through the curtain – following a dad and two teen daughters; a brother sister group; and a young girl alone. After me, a mom with four teens.

Almost instantly, I plunged into complete darkness. Instinctively, I kept my eyes open, though sight offered no help. I navigated mostly with my right hand lightly brushing along the right side walls, my left hand reaching in front and above, to check height. As I felt the ceiling closing in, I dropped to a squat and then a crawl. The lack of visual cues distorted my sense of speed. I had the impression of moving like an inchworm.

A few moments in, I heard the low rumble of a fan, likely an air conditioner or air purifier. Engaging another sense calmed me. I became aware of the air and space around me. My memory tells me I spent most of my time on all fours, but every so often, I’d sense that I entered a larger chamber – simply because of a change in air. Sure enough, I’d raise my hands above me to find completely open space to stand. Moving along at full height was disorienting in its own way.

I felt soft surfaces, others rubbery, some very smooth and silky. My favorite felt like jungle-gym netting that I climbed over. There were a few 45-degree inclines to scoot up and slides to go down. I remembered the attendant encouraging us to take our time and explore. It’s not a race, he said. I lost track of time, and I would have pegged my time to complete the path between five and 20 minutes. Actual: six minutes.

Yes, I got to do another lap. (More below). But before I explain that trip, I’ll share that as I sat in the waiting chamber with the others after my first go, I realized the experience was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. I didn’t feel unsafe but not completely safe either. I concluded that what made crawling through tiny dark tunnels bearable was knowing I could be extracted in a moment. And while it would be fun to try with a group of friends – even after a cocktail or a mind-altering edible treat – I liked that I did it alone. Just my own touch, the sound of my breathing and thoughts in my head.

My second time through I opted to use my left hand as the dominant guide, following along the left wall. The textures felt completely different, and I had a few panicked moments that I had gotten lost in a dead-end (impossible) and somehow turned myself around (not the case). After some deep breaths and a slow crawl forward, I found my (favorite) rope-thing and instantly relaxed with the familiar. From there, I let myself go much faster down the final slide into the giant pool of beans at the end.