Here Comes Treble: Memories Of The Millennium
Isabel Bradley tells of a most memorable New Year's Eve in Washington DC - an evening when President Clinton and his wife were mere dots in the distance
Most New Years’ Eves in my childhood were spent quietly at home, with family; often going to bed long before the magical chimes which changed the old year into the new. I would wake briefly at midnight to the sound of bottles ringing against lamp-posts and cries of “Happy New Year” echoing drunkenly through our quiet suburb.
Over the years, several celebrations have been particularly memorable: a noisy event in Hillbrow; a peaceful evening at the home of friends in England; parties at neighbours celebrated in good company and candlelight. One New Year’s Eve was spent at the game farm, listening to lions roar.
The most memorable New Year’s Eve was in 1999. Leon and I were staying with friends in Washington DC. We spent the day sight-seeing. We stopped for refreshments at a coffee shop and were amazed by the size of the servings. As we walked through the National Gallery Gardens, we marvelled at a great, silver pyramid and a headless army, and shuddered at a giant spider. We took photos of the white-domed Capitol shining in the winter sun and the Washington Monument, which looked suspiciously like Cleopatra’s Needle in London. The museums, all part of the Smithsonian Institute, were fascinating to visit, but so overheated we didn’t stay long. At three-thirty in the afternoon, we ambled past the White House, which was lit by a smoky sunset.
In the early evening we rode the Metro into town, where we watched a deliciously bawdy production of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. Our stomachs and cheeks ached from laughing as we left the theatre. Leon and I joined the throngs of people walking towards the Reflecting Pool between the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial.
Young children rode on their fathers’ shoulders, enjoying the crisp, clear winter evening. We passed a huge ‘farm’ of portable toilets labelled ‘porta-johns’. Eventually, we found a position under some skeleton-limbed trees, into which some people had climbed for a better view of the proceedings. There was to be live entertainment and a fireworks display to mark the arrival of the Year Two Thousand.
It was so crowded that it was difficult to move. In the distance, using the Lincoln Memorial as a stage, were President and Mrs Clinton, Céline Dion and Muhammad Ali – miniature figurines. They were the ‘live entertainment’, broadcast to the crowd over hissing speakers and large but blurred television monitors.
The only clue we had that midnight was approaching was a brief fizzle of fireworks. There was no second-by-second count-down, no cries of “Happy New Year”, no-one sang “Auld lang-syne”: it was midnight, it was The Year Two Thousand but the crowd did not react at all. Like well-controlled robots, they turned and walked away in eerie silence.
We hiked at top speed to the nearest Metro station where a train stood, filling with passengers. Leon walked onto the train holding my left hand – the rest of me was firmly pushed against the outside of the train, immobilised by the crowd. Panic rose as the public address system bellowed: “This train is about to leave, please stand clear of the doors.” Relief surged through me as, with Leon pulling hard on my arm, I managed to lever myself into the train. The doors closed seconds later; the station rushed away into the night.
It was, indeed, a memorable New Year’s Eve.
May your reflections of 2007 be happy and free of regret; and may 2008 bring to you all that you need, in joyous abundance.
Until next time, ‘here comes Treble!’
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Isabel Bradley
