Being Part of the Crowd
A person who can't deal with crowds does not belong in New York. Virtually everywhere you go, you are bound to be thrust into a group of people you do not know. You quickly become a number, lose any sense of individuality and become initiated in part of a community.
I went to a free concert in Central Park of the New York Philharmonic the other day. I guess I didn't know what I expected, but I certainly did not expect so many concert enthusiasts to be populating the Great Lawn of Central Park so many hours before concert time. The lawn was absolutely covered with people the whole way across. No green space was left. Instead it was replaced by blankets and people, chairs, umbrellas, coolers, and food.
In trying to find the group of people I was to meet up with, I was greeted by concertgoers from every direction. Endless people all traveling towards the same destination. From the exit of the Subway, to the entrance of the park, and further into the enclaves of trees and walking paths, I was surrounded by people who were all doing the same thing as me. We were being directed by park cops, talking on cell phones, looking around hopelessly, and walking around somewhat aimlessly.
Emerging from the canopy to reach the great lawn of which there was very little grass left was quite intimidating. My friends naturally blended in with the rest of the crowd, and it took me a little while to find them. Once I did find them, I had to find my way through the already-established blanket-dwellers and people who had been camping since earlier that day. I crossed woodchips, dirt, mud and wet grass, and people's feet to be joined with my party. It was a trek. But once I made, I would be united with fellow appreciators of art and Classical music.
The performances of the New York Philharmonic in the park only happen once a year, apparently, and so I was lucky to be able to attend. I settled in with the group, found a place on the blanket, kicked off my shoes, and enjoyed the company, the food and drink, and the lovely scenery. I was able to meet some interesting people.
The people on the blanket behind us bothered me, though, as they kept trying to shoo people away from finding their own places in the crowd. This practice made it seem as if they had claimed the land for themselves and didn't want anybody else to pass. They kept trying to block passageway between the two blankets, which had turned into a popular choice of passage for a great many people getting to the other side.
I, on the other hand, noted that the edges of our blankets were getting soiled, and instead of trying to keep people from passing, I set a newspaper down so that people could tread across it, instead of walking all over our blankets. The way I figured it, the people who were trying to get past had a right to get to where they were going, in order to enjoy the free concert that was about to be presented to us.
After all, how did any of these people get to their blankets? They all had to step over people just like we did.
In a sense, this situation really presents the two Americas that our country is divided up into. There is the me-first conquering America that so many people relate to. This attitude is the kind that says, "well, I worked hard to get my blanket and my cooler here before anybody else, and therefore I have a right to my spot, and why should I let any of these people through? They should have gotten here earlier." Then there is the other, more democratic America that says, "everybody came here for the same thing you did, we all came here for the freedom to watch this concert the way we want to watch it. We also have the right to find the people we came with, to sit down, and to relax and enjoy it as everyone else is."
If you are really going to deny people the things they have a right to just because they are late, then you have problems. I'm sure everyone has been late to something at least once or twice.
People may have had to work that day, and were not able to drop everything to get prime seating for a free concert in Central Park. Not everyone knew to expect the size of crowd that ended up showing up. I myself hadn't even known about the concert until a few hours prior to. I definitely didn't know to get there four hours ahead of time in order to put a blanket down.
I don't consider myself a hero by any stretch of the imagination. I don't consider myself anything more than an average citizen, and I don't think I am exempt from any of the laws that any ordinary citizen has to abide by. I do think, however, that when people are gathered in crowds full of strangers, they exhibit their true selves.
Some people panic, while others remain calm. Some people get nervous and frightened, while others become funny, and their sense of social interaction becomes heightened. Some people attract attention, while others shun it.
What I do find fascinating, though, is how crowds gather for the most varying things. Crowds of thousands of people will force themselves together to take in a concert, or a baseball game, a circus, or the speeches of their favorite political candidate. All these people gathered round a central figure or presentation; it's amazing how much attention some things get.
As some people left the concert and some room opened up, I lay back on the grass and stared up at the stars, hearing Sibelius' Finlandia wash over me as the birds and bugs chirped in the trees. Some people around me were talking, some were humming, some cell phones went off, and somebody's candle fell over, starting a sudden, but manageable, fire.
I don't mind being part of a crowd. I can fit in. I can walk through it. I can participate in whatever's going on. I can offer my help or services if somebody should need them. If I need to, I can also leave.
Being a part of a crowd is not something anybody should be afraid of, in my opinion. We are all part of crowds at one time or another. And we are all part of the crowd metaphorically, if not always physically. Some people are in different crowds than others. I think what is important, rather than what crowd we are in, is what we are gathered for.
I went to a free concert in Central Park of the New York Philharmonic the other day. I guess I didn't know what I expected, but I certainly did not expect so many concert enthusiasts to be populating the Great Lawn of Central Park so many hours before concert time. The lawn was absolutely covered with people the whole way across. No green space was left. Instead it was replaced by blankets and people, chairs, umbrellas, coolers, and food.
In trying to find the group of people I was to meet up with, I was greeted by concertgoers from every direction. Endless people all traveling towards the same destination. From the exit of the Subway, to the entrance of the park, and further into the enclaves of trees and walking paths, I was surrounded by people who were all doing the same thing as me. We were being directed by park cops, talking on cell phones, looking around hopelessly, and walking around somewhat aimlessly.
Emerging from the canopy to reach the great lawn of which there was very little grass left was quite intimidating. My friends naturally blended in with the rest of the crowd, and it took me a little while to find them. Once I did find them, I had to find my way through the already-established blanket-dwellers and people who had been camping since earlier that day. I crossed woodchips, dirt, mud and wet grass, and people's feet to be joined with my party. It was a trek. But once I made, I would be united with fellow appreciators of art and Classical music.
The performances of the New York Philharmonic in the park only happen once a year, apparently, and so I was lucky to be able to attend. I settled in with the group, found a place on the blanket, kicked off my shoes, and enjoyed the company, the food and drink, and the lovely scenery. I was able to meet some interesting people.
The people on the blanket behind us bothered me, though, as they kept trying to shoo people away from finding their own places in the crowd. This practice made it seem as if they had claimed the land for themselves and didn't want anybody else to pass. They kept trying to block passageway between the two blankets, which had turned into a popular choice of passage for a great many people getting to the other side.
I, on the other hand, noted that the edges of our blankets were getting soiled, and instead of trying to keep people from passing, I set a newspaper down so that people could tread across it, instead of walking all over our blankets. The way I figured it, the people who were trying to get past had a right to get to where they were going, in order to enjoy the free concert that was about to be presented to us.
After all, how did any of these people get to their blankets? They all had to step over people just like we did.
In a sense, this situation really presents the two Americas that our country is divided up into. There is the me-first conquering America that so many people relate to. This attitude is the kind that says, "well, I worked hard to get my blanket and my cooler here before anybody else, and therefore I have a right to my spot, and why should I let any of these people through? They should have gotten here earlier." Then there is the other, more democratic America that says, "everybody came here for the same thing you did, we all came here for the freedom to watch this concert the way we want to watch it. We also have the right to find the people we came with, to sit down, and to relax and enjoy it as everyone else is."
If you are really going to deny people the things they have a right to just because they are late, then you have problems. I'm sure everyone has been late to something at least once or twice.
People may have had to work that day, and were not able to drop everything to get prime seating for a free concert in Central Park. Not everyone knew to expect the size of crowd that ended up showing up. I myself hadn't even known about the concert until a few hours prior to. I definitely didn't know to get there four hours ahead of time in order to put a blanket down.
I don't consider myself a hero by any stretch of the imagination. I don't consider myself anything more than an average citizen, and I don't think I am exempt from any of the laws that any ordinary citizen has to abide by. I do think, however, that when people are gathered in crowds full of strangers, they exhibit their true selves.
Some people panic, while others remain calm. Some people get nervous and frightened, while others become funny, and their sense of social interaction becomes heightened. Some people attract attention, while others shun it.
What I do find fascinating, though, is how crowds gather for the most varying things. Crowds of thousands of people will force themselves together to take in a concert, or a baseball game, a circus, or the speeches of their favorite political candidate. All these people gathered round a central figure or presentation; it's amazing how much attention some things get.
As some people left the concert and some room opened up, I lay back on the grass and stared up at the stars, hearing Sibelius' Finlandia wash over me as the birds and bugs chirped in the trees. Some people around me were talking, some were humming, some cell phones went off, and somebody's candle fell over, starting a sudden, but manageable, fire.
I don't mind being part of a crowd. I can fit in. I can walk through it. I can participate in whatever's going on. I can offer my help or services if somebody should need them. If I need to, I can also leave.
Being a part of a crowd is not something anybody should be afraid of, in my opinion. We are all part of crowds at one time or another. And we are all part of the crowd metaphorically, if not always physically. Some people are in different crowds than others. I think what is important, rather than what crowd we are in, is what we are gathered for.
posted by Leland J. Fischer at 5:24 PM
<< Home