We’ll be ringing in 2010 with good friends, which is typical for our family. Games, food, lots of laughter. That’s pretty much how we have spent every New Year’s Eve since we were married. All 22 of them. Except one. One that we will never forget.
I thought on this New Year’s Eve it would be fun to share the story of how our family rang in 2004.
As 2003 came to a close, we had been residents in the UK for just over a year. We decided to explore part of England we had not visited. The options were endless, but it needed to be cheap since we were living on a missionary budget. And this was sort of a last-minute plan. So we did a little online research for free museums open in New Year’s Eve.
We quickly saw that much was free and open in London, and though it was a bit of a drive, or train ride, we thought it was worth it. We hadn’t been to Greenwich yet, so we made plans for the Maritime Museum and a boat ride on the Thames. Then we realized – why not stay all evening and ring in 2004 in London. It’s one of the cities you see on TV. And we felt familiar with the city. So we devised our plan. We were going to have a very memorable New year’s Eve as a family. (Do you feel the foreshadowing?)
So off we went. We made it to London in good time. We picked up a boat ride to Greenwich (included in our public transport tickets) and ate our packed lunch. We were on our way to fine family memories. It was a little chilly, but we were prepared. A few museums closed early, but we had a lovely time in Greenwich, we rode a city double-decker bus (not a tourist one) around London. We meandered around Piccadilly Circus, Trafalgar Square and Big Ben/Westminster Abby. It was cold, and there were some unexpected kinks, but nothing that could really dampen our spirits. We were on an adventure that would be a family memory for sure.
Eventually it was time to make our way to Big Ben, just in front of Westminster Abby and we found a patch of grass. Perfect spot to see Big Ben at midnight. And strategically located so that just after midnight, we could start our trek north and hit the tube station that we needed to reach our car. We had even confirmed our exit plan with a police officer (since many Tube stations would be closed at midnight.) This night was working out great.
But it was cold; right around freezing. And it was misting a bit. We had an hour to kill, so we decided to walk across the river and walk back over the millennium foot bridge. We hadn’t done that one yet.
So we took a leisurely stroll – along with thousands of people. Laughing and joking all the way and so pleased we had chosen this for our New Year's Eve as a family. A night we would all remember… I had even thought through those credit card commercial lines. “Transport tickets: £25; Petrol: £30; Dinner: £40; New Year’s at the foot of Big Ben: priceless.”
As we crossed the foot bridge and turned left toward Big Ben, the crowds began to build. We reminded the kids that now is when we implement our safe traveling strategy. All kids holding the coattails or hand of an adult. Never let go. And so we progressed – slowly. And as we reached the corner to turn toward Westminster Abby, we reached an impasse. At that spot, people were trying to go 4 different directions. But there wasn’t room. Jack was in a stroller, and eventually I had to pick him up and fold the stroller. Immediately people pushed into the new empty space, crushing him against me. He panicked. Screaming. Chelsea and Sam saw him screaming and began to scream as well. We could hear other voices in distress “you’re crushing me!”
Dave and I were doing all we could to hold our ground and not be shoved around by the crowd. Our kids were in hysterics. Dave and I were being separated and the kids were clinging to me. I looked at Big Ben. It was 11:50pm. The Hare Krishnas were somehow making their way through the crowd, dancing and singing at a deafening volume.
In a quick moment both Dave and I saw dead space ahead and gave each other a look like “see you there.” We worked our way through the crowd. Jack’s ear-piercing screaming help split the crowd some. The dead space we came upon w as a police barricade, leaving an open patio area by the entrance of a building. When we reached the barricades, an officer immediately took the kids over and they began to breathe and calm down. That is, until they told me I could not come over. They would deal with the kids. So the kids were whisked off behind a concrete column. I wasn’t too panicked, and for good reason. It wasn’t even a minute before Chelsea and Sam were hysterical because they were separated from us. So the officer came and got me, but told Dave he had to stay behind. I was able to calm the kids mostly, but they were convinced they would never see Daddy again.
At this point people were being allowed over the barricades and checked for sore ribs and such. Literally, people were being crushed by the crowds. Dave eventually snuck his way over. We all huddled in the corner of the building’s patio area. The kids cried. We breathed deep. And soon I realized it was midnight. 'Happy New Year!" We told the kids. They sort of laughed, starting to breathe easy. That was until..
We realized we were looking straight at the Thames River, with the London Eye in full view. We did not know that since 2000 (when the eye was new) fireworks are launched at midnight to ring in the new year. It actually was a great view – except that Jack is petrified of fireworks. I don’t just mean scared of. I mean PETRIFIED. And we were stuck looking right at them. And not only hearing them, but feeling them. We can now say that Jack has not heart defects, because if he did, he would be dead. Jack froze with terror. All I could do is hold him and cry.
Fortunately, the fireworks ended quickly, and Jack breathed again. We knew (ha) that we were on the other side of this terrifying experience.
It’s at this point in telling the story that I wonder if the listeners are done, or if they’d like to hear the rest. Because there is more. So read on if you wish.
We thought after about 20 minutes, as the crowds dispersed, it would be safe to head out. It was raining now, temps hovering right around freezing. We made sure we were all bundled, Jack back in his stroller, and off we went. Only to discover that our planned route was not an option. We had not successfully turned the corner at Big Ben toward Westminster Abby before midnight. Therefore, the crowd we were in was all being directing downriver. The opposite direction we needed to go. So we walked. And walked. We could not cut up the side streets. They were closed. When we could turn, we would encounter loud, raucous crowds throwing glass bottles or urinating in the streets. We would turn back, and walk further the wrong way.
So we walked. Circumventing much of central London. Any open Tube station was so crowded our kids refused to enter. They’d rather walk. In the freezing rain. So we did. 2.5 hours later we reached the Baker St. station. It would take us straight to our car. As we entered, our train was approaching, so we hurried down the stairs and hopped on. It was then that I reached down to get Jack out of his stroller. His lips were blue and he was completely pale. He was soaked. We all had been walking for over 2 hours in the freezing rain. He sat.
Subtly I tried to communicate to Dave (without Chelsea and Sam noticing) that Jack wasn't doing so great. Dave was not so subtle in ripping off Jack’s wet clothes, ripping off his own dry clothes, and swaddling Jack in them. Dave sat rocking Jack, warming him, and fighting back tears. Gradually, all five of us relaxed and were able to breathe and laugh. That is until a really drunk guy in the car behind us slammed open the door so he could hang off the edge of the car to relieve himself. It sent Jack into panic again, and sent us into prayer that the guy’s urine stream wouldn’t hit the third rail. The last thing we needed was our kids to witness a death by urination.
Around 4am, as we pulled into our driveway and began to carry the kids up to bed, one of them said, half-awake, “can we just stay home next year.”
Ahhh. Family memories. Happy New Year.
