Fourth of July

Fourth of July- we pack Alice up and make our way to the Macy’s fireworks display. It’s two hours of punishing heat, pushing the stroller up hills, weaving it around people so as to not skin their ankles and dragging it up long flights of stairs. But there’s a break- The subways here are for the most part air-conditioned, which means 45-minutes of lovely. About four hours before the fireworks are set to begin, we get off in Chelsea and make our way to the park to set up camp. The crowds are starting to grow, filling the sidewalk and spilling over onto the streets, and the police everywhere, looking serious and damp.

About three blocks from the park, we come to the first police barricade, where they check our bags for booze (and bombs.) In the block before the second barricade, we catch a glimpse of the tops of trees and slices of grass in the shade. A cool breeze rolls off the Hudson. We have a sarong to sit on and a dinner packed for Alice. Mike will go get us chicken kabab as I lie in the shade with the baby. 

There’s a crowd around the second barricade, and as we join them, a group of five – M.I.A circa 2006, a Basquiat look-alike, possibly Grimes - cut through. They flash passes that hang from their necks and the cop waves them through, as if we’re at SXSW. 

“Tickets?” the cop asks us.

“Tickets? Like, admission?”

“Yeah, you need a Macy’s Fireworks ticket to enter the park. And they’re sold out.”  He ushers us towards another barricade, and we see that the street’s been cordoned off for those who will watch the fireworks for free. Not the entire street though. Just half of it, so the edge of the sidewalk runs up the allotted space it like a seam. Holiday revelers have thrown their blankets onto the black asphalt and sit slumped in the reflected heat. The smart ones have brought foldout chairs. Others are drinking their warm pop on towels laid out in the gutter. It looks like a Macy’s Fourth of July refugee camp. We decide to move along.

Thousands of us limp along the cordoned off streets muttering to each other like a scene from The Walking Dead. We finally find a space where the fireworks will be visible, and by then we only have a 20 minute wait. When they do begin, they’re big and brash and, as if to make up for the inaccessible park, overly long. A sea of phones is raised. For me, it was the ultimate “Pow! Welcome to America! Yeah!” I now feel like I’m here.

On the subway ride home, I have a long conversation with a homeless woman about Alice.

“How is she dealing with the heat?” she asked.

“Oh, she cries sometimes but she seems to be adapting well.”

“Babies are so adaptable,” she said. “If you find that she has heat rash, just add some water to cornstarch to make a paste. It works great.”

“Really? I heard baking soda works well too.”

“I find baking soda’s better as a cleaning agent.”

It was totally a conversation I would have had at my mommy’s group at the Y, except it was with a woman with a giant stars and stripes bandana on her head, two teeth, and a tarp-covered shopping cart. She was super nice and very knowledgeable about babies.  

crying baby!