Thanksgiving Pt. 1

Of all the stories I am going to tell on this blog, this is probably the most important to me, so I'm going to tell in three parts. I've been telling it for six years, going over each detail, prepping it for this moment, when I tell the world what happened on Thanksgiving in 2007. It's a long story, but read it anyway; learn the deepest secrets of the Macy's Parade. Well . . . here goes.

It was a bright Thursday morning - no school, no worries. Like always, my family was going up to my grandpa's house in Connecticut where there is enough room to ruffle glorious feathers and soar. There is empty space waiting in the wings, negative space, light and dark. But first, there was some business to attend to. The pianist in my mom's band was holding a party. She lived right on Central Park West, on the third floor, so there was a great view of the floats. If you pressed right up against the enormous glass window, it almost felt like you were soaring, but it was New York City. No room.

So, on the morning of, my mom and I had to set out early (my dad was going straight to CT) and pick the right subway to get the job done. There were two options: the 2/3, which we had taken the previous year with success, or the A/B/C/D, which let off only feet from the party. With cameras strapped in tight, and books for the ride, we boarded a train and stood clear of the closing doors. We sat, and doodled our inside-the-mind doodles on top of all our memories, until our stop. Quite obviously, the mechanical voice inside the train could not see what we could see, because she said the name of the station quite calmly, and through the moving windows, we could glimpse a platform full of people, to the point that a few of them had their backs on the slowing train, trying to push through.

Unsure of the cause, we got off the train and into a mob. From everywhere, women, men, even children were pressing in on all sides, trying to get to an exit. There was only one glimpse of light up ahead, and no movement. "What's going on?" I screamed. The train doors closed and it couldn't have rocketed away fast enough. I quickly moved away from the edge, afraid of falling.
"It's only because these people have to get through the parade, don't worry we'll be out soon."
The mechanical voice was back: "Due to overcrowding, the exits are now closed." I shrieked.

"Don't worry!" shouted my mom, but she sounded panicked too, and like a wolf's ears, I could see her eyes, giving her away. "We'll just take the next train."

Another mechanical comment: "Due to overcrowding, this station is now closed." As if to prove its point, a rickety D train shot through the station as though it was poisonous and headed uptown. We were trapped.

To be continued tomorrow....