Life, Gratitude and the Power of Balloons



What are you smiling about ? You big yellow jerk

Everyone dreams of going to the Macy's Thanksgiving  parade. For eighty five years it has been one of America's great traditions. Fifty million homes have it on as Turkeys are getting stuffed. So it was an obvious choice when we had all, well most, of our kids together for Thanksgiving for the first time in years. I can only say now that the thing I am grateful for the most this year is that we escaped that tribulation alive. 

Myself, my wife, my 16 year old daughter, 14 year old step-son and our 4 year old headed down to the city around 6:30 AM, which we thought was going to be too late. In a way it was. We had a strategy, one of many posted on various web-sites, basically find a spot and stay there. What the web-sites fail to mention is that it is complete and total pandemonium. Generally everyone was nice, but there were just too many of everyone. I am still just so shocked that in all these years of history that more people have not been trampled like at one of those raves that happen in big fields somewhere in Germany. I even Googled it when we got home " People trampled or dying from panic at Macy's Parade" But all for naught. I can say this; it is not safe, and they will have to soon work to control the crowds. Any emergency, any slight reason for panic in a crowd like that, and dominoes will fall hard and not get up.

At first we had space, because it was early. We were not too close, but not too bad. We were proud of our little spot. We had made it to within 100 yards of where the big damned balloons would be dragged by and we were pretty sure we could see something. At very least Cee Lo Green, because he is kind of rotund and visible, like the Doughboy with a potty-mouth. It filled up quickly, and our spot became a living hell, a constricted pulsing mass of human jello moving back and forth with the force of energy. The ebb and flow of people pushing and squeezing through. It was a claustrophobic phantasm. Kids were slipping through our legs, and people were doing anything to get closer - making up stories that their grandmother or dead uncle or whoever was " up there"  I had my kid, who is heavier than a cement block, on my shoulders for four hours.

I must say once the parade finally started, after what seemed like centuries of waiting, the tension lifted a bit, as if the crowd too was suddenly full of helium. Cameras were hoisted, cheers erupted and everyone smiled. But it was still hell. My wife became very nervous about the kids, and I could barely stand, but due to the super-human strength only given to dads in parades I was the rock.

At one point our 14 year old decided he had to get out of our ever smaller space, as some smelly old dude with long fingernails, an old bag of newspapers that he was fondling and likely a turd in his pocket got just a little too close. We hugged our son as if he was going off to war at the end of the world.  37th Ave between 5th and 6th was full. It was wall to wall people with nary a way out. At some point, I said, let's go. My wife did not think she could do it. My daughter got scared. With my son on my shoulder I tried to pave the way for us. This, my loyal reader (singular on purpose) was one of the most harrowing experiences of my life.  It was damned near impossible to get out.  We pushed - there were times when we had less room than our bodies' mass actually required - like we were inverted sans breath, deflated balloons slinking our way out. It took us a full 40 minutes, including my daughter's tears, losing my wife for a whole 10 minutes and a lifetime of emotional scarring, and a few real bruises.

We met up with our son on 5th Avenue and it was as if we had all just survived the holocaust and were re-united. 

It is times like these that you recognize how truly precious family is. It is all we have really. And in those 5 hours we became closer than we have been in a long time.  Whatever the experience was it is something that we will never forget, and will re-live year in an year out. We are a better family for it, and we have Macy's and a few big dumb balloons to thank for it.