One Twenty

The gates were scheduled to open at 9am. They arrived at 8:30 to a massive mob of people already in line. By 10 o'clock, not having moved significantly, tensions were high and people were getting upset. The bitter cold did nothing to dampen the soaring spirits; rather, a sense of shared discomfort, of group experience, knowing that everyone was equally frozen, and all would be able to tell their friends and loved ones about the day, warmed the fingers and toes and noses and hearts of one and a half million people.

"Are we going to be let in?" "It's supposed to start at noon." "I've been waiting my whole life for this day, I'm not going to miss this." "Why haven't we moved in two hours?" Whispers that swept back and forth like the tide. "They haven't told us anything." "What's the point of tickets if they don't use them?" "Doesn't assigned seating mean you're assigned a seat?"

The frustration finally reached a head. Crowds always know how to chant, what phrases will work, and what captures the emotion of the moment.

"WHAT'S GOING ON? WHAT'S GOING ON?"