January 1, 2007
I asked every New Yorker I knew – “Should I do the ball drop in Times Square for New Year’s Eve?” The answers ranged from ‘No’ to ‘Are you crazy?’ to ‘Hell No!!” Not one New Yorker told me I should. “It’s insane. People pee in the streets. They lock you in. You’re surrounded by people for hours and can’t move.” Etc. Etc. Now understand – I was so ‘people claustrophobic’ for most of my life, a boyfriend once paid someone $100 for their aisle seat on our standby flight because I was hyperventilating in the middle seat in the row behind him. I was never claustrophobic of spaces, just being closed in by people. It was a fear I faced after it cost my guy $100 for my sanity - taking the baby step program from first class window, to coach window, to exit row middle seats, I eventually taught myself how to meditate my way through a flight in a middle seat in coach (well on a domestic flight anyway). Still, any time there are people on all sides of me, I’m just not comfortable – guess I would have never made it in Ancient Greece…
Listening to the advice of my New Yorker friends was awfully tempting. But then I was in New York for crying out loud. A travel writer in New York no less! How could I do anything else but watch the ball drop? It is, as they say, the center of the world on New Year’s Eve! People fly here from everywhere just for the chance to stand in Times Square and ring in the New Year. I remember when I was seven my parents had gotten dolled up and gone out on the town for New Years Eve. I had a bad habit of firing my babysitters so they had finally given up and just let me stay by myself when they went out. I remember staying up to watch the ball drop and saying to myself – “I wanna do that one day!” Really now? How could I not go? Still, over a million people crammed together in a single square….
I was still wavering between all the New Yorkers who had told me don’t go and the energetic pull you could all but feel coming from Times Square as I finished my day’s writing and took a shower. One of my ‘travel rules’ acquired over my time in Europe was “always listen to the yes’s, never listen to the no’s.” I realized in thinking about why that was true that yes’s tend to be universal – the beauty of nature, the inspiration of man, the sometimes incomprehensible reality of time - things that touch all men somewhere deep in their soul. Few people could sit on the edge of the Grand Canyon and not be impressed. No’s, however, tend to be personal – a place is too crowded, or too expensive, or too touristy, or too whatever. These qualities are all ranges – some people mind crowds, some don’t. Some people love villages that seem more like Disneyworld than real places, some don’t. No’s tend to be less universal, more personal judgments. So as I continued to question my sanity in even considering going, I realized that while all the New Yorkers were telling me no, millions of people had come to this city over the last 100 years just to go see that silly little ball drop. That was an awful lot of yes’s. The nail on the coffin to hurry up and get out the door was the sudden realization that of all the New Yorkers who told me not to go, none of them had gone! Well, at least not in the last fifteen or twenty years.
It was just after 4pm as I made my way down 40th street. Eight hours until midnight and I knew I was probably already too late to get a spot in Times Square proper – still, I was going to go and at least check it out. If I didn’t want to stay, I didn’t have to, right? With each avenue I crossed, there were more and more people in the streets. When I arrived on the back side of Times Square, behind the ball drop, there were suddenly more people than street. The streets into Times Square were closed off and I was swept into a flow of humanity moving west on 40th street toward 8th Avenue where we would be allowed to turn to the north again. Unfortunately mankind seems less conscious of its fellow-creatures than the penguins, salmon, buffalo and other species that can travel in large packs without crushing each other. It was like riding a slinky, you had no say whatsoever in which direction you could go, you were just carried along – forced abruptly in one direction then the other depending on who was pushing harder from which side.
I made it five minutes before I felt the panic rising. I had to get out. Unfortunately, I was on the inside of the 30 foot wide flow of people and had no idea how I would force my way across this human conveyor belt. I was only two people from the inside railing where I could at least grab a moment of air before attempting to transverse the pulsating crowd. I excused my way in front of one person, spotted the young man against the rail who I hoped would let me in, and leaned over slightly to ask him if I could step in front of him. Just then, a fierce shove from the back of the crowd threw me in front of him and all of us up against the railing. People were yelling and I was, for a moment, honestly scared. I had sudden flashbacks of news stories of people trampled by other people and felt a moment of exquisite empathy for their plight. I pray I will never be trapped anywhere where people are in a panic.
Pushed against each other and against the railing, the young man and I began talking incredulously about what was happening and wondering what the hell we were doing there. He had an obvious accent so I asked where he was from and our conversation began. At 23, he just finished his masters in psychology, after a two year stint as a professional soccer player in South Africa, and was taking time off to travel for awhile. It was his first time traveling abroad alone. It is one of the great joys of traveling, the immediate bonding you feel with other travelers. We took up an easy conversation. I so admire people like David – young, wide open, a bit scared but willing to take risks on the belief life is good and out there waiting to be lived. It always saddens me to see twenty-somethings who already see life as something to be suffered, who feel pressured by time, or forced to achieve, or are convinced that life is a battle with the bank account. Kids like David and so many in the CS community and elsewhere are wide open to life and the idea that we are all in it together. They give me hope for the world. With the rail next to me, which meant no people to my right, and an engaging conversation, suddenly the crowd wasn’t so bad. In fact, in just a few more feet the sidewalk opened up, like the freeway after a wreck on the side of the road, and we were left wondering what all the madness was just a few minutes before.
We blended in with the now comfortably moving flow of people up 8th Avenue. It is actually quite ingenious how the police handle the crowd. 7th Avenue and Broadway are barricaded at the north and south side of each cross street creating a cordoned rectangular area for each block of street. Only a certain number of people are allowed into each area. Once the limit is reached, that street is closed off and people are funneled north to the next cross street. People staying in hotels or with passes to restaurants are only permitted into the block where their hotel or restaurant is located. They can enter and leave the area freely, but anyone else, once in, cannot leave the cordoned area and return; they will be forced further north to the next open area. They ask that people not bring bags and they can turn anyone away who is carrying a knapsack, but a quick search lets most people through with their purse or camera bag or such. Yes, it is true there are no bathrooms, but there are also no vendors and no water bottles or other beverages allowed so the whole ‘peeing in the streets’ issue has been all but eliminated (excuse the pun). Here’s a tip for you future Times Square goers – once you are in and everyone has kind of settled into place, make friends with whoever has the hotel pass. You’ll be allowed to leave the cordoned area and go to one of the open bars or restaurants on the street then return to where you were. Seven of us shared one hotel pass – they never even checked the pass much less ID to see if it was ours.
So my new friend David and I were carried along to the intersection of 50th and Broadway. Everyone was fairly tightly packed, but again I had a rail next to me so I was still keeping my sanity, well whatever of it I still have. There was a huge television screen to my right showing the stage just four blocks up from us and I had a perfectly clear view straight to the ball – not bad positioning I thought. Well, until you realize it is 5:30 and you are going to be standing there without food, water, alcoholic beverages, a bathroom, or any opportunity to move or even sit down. I was beginning to think my New Yorker friends were right. There was no way I was going to stand here for six and a half hours!
I knew of a Couchsurfing party in Brooklyn, and David and I were seriously discussing whether to cut out. “Well, we’ll stay a little while and see,” we agreed. The first hour dragged by. It was one of the slowest hours of my life, though enjoyable as David and I laughingly shared the highlights of our life stories. It was becoming awfully tempting to carry our conversation to a bar somewhere when suddenly the area we were in opened up. It took us awhile to figure out the police must cordon the area a little smaller than it needs to be, pack everyone in so they calm down and see the reality of the hours before them, and then move the barricades outward letting some air into our little box. We suddenly had space to walk around, sit down, and, even dance. And dance we would.
As the stage shows started up with music played in between, we started chatting with the people around us. There was the family behind us from Miami – mom, dad, and the girls, probably 16 and 13 or so, were on a two week road trip through the New England area. The girls were a bit shy - try as we might we couldn’t get them to dance with us - but it was wonderful to see what was obviously a close knit family out enjoying their family vacation and once in a life time opportunities. I hated that I didn’t get their names but I still lit a candle for them and send out best wishes for the New Year to them and all those I met. In front of us was another family - the dad, Victor, is here working in New York while his wife, Denise, and their son, Enrique, are back in Puerto Rico. Denise was great. She definitely had that Latin American swing to her hips and such a fun sparkle in her eye. Enrique was 14 and still so loving to his mother. They danced together – her and her son, all of them as a family, her with Cassandra and I - all of them making the most of the music and the moment. Now Cassandra, she was a hoot! Your classic triple B, big, black, beautiful and full of spice! She could get down with the best of them. She lives in Las Vegas and had dreamed all her life of doing New Year’s Eve in Times Square. Now she was there and going to make the best of it. She had come with friends from Brooklyn – the only New Yorkers in the crowd I think.
All of us ended up talking, laughing, and dancing the night away. It was fascinating watching the dynamics as we moved from strangers to friends in the course of six hours. People all around us had sour looks on their face. They looked more like they were standing in the unemployment line than celebrating the New Year, but we just kept dancing and making our own fun. Aside from our limbo line that brought in a few stragglers, we only managed one true convert to our little private dancing party. There was a very attractive young man, standing on his own, looking as disgruntled as the rest of the crowd just a couple feet from us. He was obviously too well dressed to be American. For the longest time he stood there stiff legged and stiff faced, then I saw just the slightest tapping in his foot. I knew we had a recruit for our fun times little group. It didn’t take much arm twisting before he was dancing along with us. He obviously danced too well to be American as well. It turned out Christophe was from a town near Paris and doing an internship in D.C. He had taken the bus up that morning just to see the ball drop and was headed back the next morning at 7 ungodly o’clock a.m.. A shame he is in D.C. – I started my French lessons and need a tutor!
Somehow between David’s and my conversation, Cassandra’s sparkling personality, the preciousness of the family bonds around us, and our little island of dancing in a sea of blank-faced people, the hours ticked by like minutes. The energy built as did the name recognition on the stage. When Christine Aguilera at last took the stage, David went wild, as did some of the Blank Faces. She did an amazing performance – just four blocks beyond us. If we had arrived an hour earlier, we would have been close enough to see those moves across the square but I wouldn’t have changed places for anything. It was the camaraderie with those around us that made our evening so great - a group of people sharing a lifetime dream and making the most of it.
As the countdown neared, they played “Imagine” – John Lennon’s voice filled the square as images of the square and the year flashed on the television screen. Imagine there’s no countries, it isn’t hard to do. Nothing to kill or die for and no religion too. Imagine all the people living life in peace…. You may say that I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one. I hope someday you’ll join us and the world will live as one…. You could feel hope for a brotherhood of man hanging in the air. It was a powerful moment, shared with over a million people – a once in a lifetime moment I will never forget.
And then it was time – 10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1 and another New Year had begun. There were fireworks and music and screams of delight. We gave hugs all around and I promised to post pictures on the website for everyone before we disappeared into the crowd going our separate ways. David and I saw Christophe to his subway to catch his early morning bus then set off for the CS party though we ended up just walking Manhattan until dawn instead. We had joked earlier in the evening how anti-climactic New Years Eve tends to be. We figured standing in the cold for seven hours would lead to the most anti-climactic New Years Eve ever. Instead, it was the best either of us had ever had – dancing in the streets with strangers, sharing a common dream, and opening to new friendship and experiences. Life is an amazing thing….
Personal note: To Christophe, Denise, Victor, Enrique, Cassandra and her friends, the family from Miami, and, of course, David, may you all have a Happy New Year filled with the joy of the evening we shared. Thanks for the good times. Drop a line – I’d love to hear from you...
Hi Sherry!!
How good was meeting you.
Thanks for giving me your adress website, I enjoy it very much.
You lighted my night at time square this new year 2007.
Take care
Souvenir d'une nuit magnifique!
See you traveller
Christophe
Posted by: Christophe | January 14, 2007 at 01:18 AM