A Millennium
All photos by
Scott Barnett Emerald
On the comer of 7th Avenue and W. 47th Street the crowd was so thick that even turning around was a challenge. Only about four blocks
from the ball, people in this area were not able to leave until after 1:00 a.m., which made it nearly impossible to use a restroom or get
something to eat or drink.
By Scott Barnett
Oregon Daily Emerald
Ihad been planning to spend
New Year’s Eve 1999 in New
York City’s Times Square
ever since I was a little kid,
so I wasn't quite sure how to feel
as my train pulled into Penn Sta
tion at noon on Dec. 31.
Having heard rumors that peo
ple had been lining up a week in
advance in order to get a good
spot, I was worried that I would
be forced to see the famous ball
drop through a pair of binoculars
from Central Park. With this in
mind, my brother and I quickly
hurried to find a good viewpoint,
cameras in hand.
Stepping out of the train sta
tion, we immediately found our
selves being herded like cattle
along with thousands of other
revelers toward an unknown
destination we hoped was Times
Square.
Luckily, after two hours of
walking — or more like shuffling
— we found ourselves cozily
nestled within the crowd, about
four blocks from ground zero.
Thus began our 10-hour wait to
see a little glass ball made of Wa
terford crystal mosey its way
down a shiny metal pole.
How this became a tradition, I
have no idea.
Looking back at the drawn-out
standing spell, it wasn’t so bad.
There were several exhibition
ists, hoisted upon friends’ shoul
ders, each one greeted with great
excitement by the crowd. Dozens
of police officers lined every cor
ner to ensure that everyone was
safe. Everyone seemed full of
smiles and all were happy to rat
tle their noisemakers and toot
their horns.
As surreal and incredible as
my time was at Times Square,
however, there were several in
stances that reminded me there
is a price to pay for such an ex
perience.
Like the bottles of urine in
plastic bottles that were kicked
along the ground because people
did not want to loose their spot
to visit a Port-O-Potty. Or the guy
standing next to me who found
out that half a pizza and a bottle
of cheap champagne didn’t taste
any better partially digested; he
eventually deposited the whole
mess near my feet. (By the way,
this is also the same guy who de
cided to give me a kiss on the
cheek at midnight!)
Although the occasion seemed
to drag on at times, I finally
found out why I had yearned to
be here, in this exact spot, for so
many years. As that glowing ball
began its descent, the tumul
tuous roar of the crowd counting
down the seconds to a new mil
lennium filled my whole body
with chills of happiness and
awe.
When it was all said and done
I’m glad that I went. The experi
ence may not have been perfect,
but at least I can say I fulfilled
my inner kid’s dream. I celebrat
ed the turn of the millennium in
Times Square.
Clean-up crews started clearing the tons of confetti and garbage that littered
Square at 5:00 a.m. on January 1,2000. It wasn’t until late afternoon that they finally
managed to get the square to its pre-celebration level of cleanliness.