Went to the St. Patrick's Day Parade today. I didn't see this guy, but I'm sure he's available for parties tonight, if you're interested.
Walking away afterwards, two things struck me -- a bottle and a fist.
Just kidding. No, what struck me first was the sounds. When you're nearing a parade in New York City, but you're not quite there yet, the sound is quite striking. Random drum beats, whistles -- and a high, soft generalized sort of screaming. It's really strange -- when you actually get there, the drums, etc., get louder, but that screaming vanishes (unless lots of people are actually screaming, in which case, well, there you have it. ). But walk away, and there it is again, this soft wailing, like a whole lot of people in pain. It always reminds me of Dante's Inferno, people being blown about uncontrollably.
And second, relativity. New York is so large and busy, if you walk just a block or two away from the action -- even massive, loud parade action, the city completely swallows it up. Truly, if it weren't for a few barricades and all the green you'd never even know there was a St. Patrick's Day Parade from my office here, one block away.
It just goes to show, with the exception of the Big Bang, every big event really is small, relatively speaking. (Come to think of it, maybe that goes for the Big Bang, too.)
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