Ok. So this post doesn't have much to do with walking, in the Urban Hiking sense of the word, but I post it here as either an amusing little tidbit, a one person account of an event witnessed by countless others, or as a cautionary tale. You decide.
Having a directionally challenged out of town guest staying with us who was really excited to see the ball drop at Times Square, we felt it would be no harm in taking him to see what he had, for so many years, seen on TV from the comfort of his own couch. We knew it would be crowded and cold and an overall slow go, but we had no idea of the magnitude of it all, especially since Scott and I usually spend this time of the year in Brazil. I figured it would be an experience. And that it was.
When the news reports say there were hundreds of thousands of people at Times Square, that is a gross undercounting of the hoards packing 7th Ave. and Broadway, all the way to 59th street at the edge of Central Park. For the mathematically challenged, that's 12 blocks from the northern edge of the square. Hundreds of thousands of people my ass. There were way more of us there, squished together in very tight police barricades.
In an attempt at crowd control, and presumably to keep out weapons and alcohol, the police set up check points along the designated entry points into the viewing barricades along Broadway and 7th. The barricades were to contain the crowd and leave enough room for emergency vehicles to get through. Not a bad idea, but one that was poorly executed, at least from where we were standing.
By about 5 p.m., I already knew that I really didn't want to partake in the festivities. A bar, a beer or two and the company of friends seemed like a far more sensible alternative. We never planned on getting into the thick of things. Our naive plan was to watch it from a distance, from the edge of Central Park, which would, presumably, keep us out of the police corrals and away from the crowds. But it wasn't to be so.
After a leisure dinner, we slowly made our way uptown towards 59th and 7th, our planned viewing area. I had packed 36 grapes (12 a piece) to be eaten at midnight to ensure wealth and good fortune in the new year - a Brazilian tradition of eating lentils at midnight for the same purpose seemed unpractical given the circumstances - and off we went, walking up 6th Avenue. At that point the bar, the beer and the friends really seemed like a far-flung dream, compared to the hell of humanity we were about to join.
Our first corral was at the corner of 59th and 6th, were cops were using orange plastic fencing to keep people from crossing the street. They were trying to control the flux of people though the security checkpoint ahead. Some 10 minutes went by, a lot of complaining was voiced and we were finally let through. The police offices greeted everyone with a resounding "Welcome to New York" as they released the barriers. This was actually pretty amusing, especially when the fur coat clad women tried to pull rank and get through before everyone else, to no avail.
The second corral was at the security checkpoint, where officers with hand held metal detectors made their best effort to wand everyone. Purses and bags were peeked into and people were let through. This was all very fast and efficient, and I don't envy the police officers that had to stand in front of the ever-pushing crowd. It was a complete thankless job and frankly, probably a little scary because of the sheer number of people and the constant bouts of pushing.
The third corral was more like a bottleneck, which nearly caused a stampede. People pushed their way through and, for the first time that night, I was afraid.
Having cleared the obstacle, we were now in some sort of holding pen of police barricades on 59th street. A big screen TV posted at the intersection of 59th and 7th broadcast a feed of what was happening just down the street - with no audio other than what we could her from the source. The traffic light at the intersection hung exactly in the middle of the screen from where we were standing, obstructing the view. Performers were a red light, green arrow or green light with legs, which was also pretty funny. For a while.
As our holding pen was about to be released to the next corner, some altercation ensued between some bratty teens at the front of the crowd and the police. More pushing. Parents with small children looked concerned, as they probably should have been. A mob scene was forming and there was absolutely no way out. We were packed so tight it was hard to move your arms. We were not released. People were not amused. A man with a child in a stroller grabbed his kid and pushed his way to the front of the barricade. I think he thought he could get out. The stroller he left behind caused complete strangers to form a human shield around it to protect it from the pushing. It was not for a long time, after no one appeared to be claiming the child that the good Samaritans figured out that the stroller was empty. To make more space, they passed the baby carriage over their heads, to the front of the barricade, where some very concerned police officers didn't quite know what to do with a crowd surfing baby stroller.
And so we passed our time, wondering if we'd ever be allowed through. At that point I was very afraid, simply because we were close to the front and there were so many people behind us we could not see the end. And there was pushing and no way out.
We stood there, watching the monitor with the Times Square feed, standing shoulder to shoulder with our fellow strangers, for about two hours. We were the sideshow freak act. Those at home in the apartments above 59th assembled and looked at us, several to a window. I couldn't really see from where I was standing, but I'm pretty sure they were pointing and laughing. I even saw a few flash bulbs go off.
A feather-clad traffic light passed for Mariah Carey. Countdown appeared, the crowd cheered and all started counting 10, 9, 8... and at 1, the light turned green and 2005 was over. . The crowd screamed "Happy New Year." And we went home, glad to be alive, having watched the ball drop, on TV, from the vicinity of Times Square.
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