Tonight, at seven, we have the rehearsal dinner atChip Shop, on Brooklyn Height’s Atlantic Avenue, where we’ll raise our cups to Wills & Kate in honor of tomorrow’s Royal Wedding. At 5 am the bridal party will rise, in pajama pants and ratty gym tees, on the living room floor. We will stretch, share a champagne toast, and ready ourselves for the day’s celebration. The room will be abuzz, the energy electric with pre-wedding jitters– for today’s the day that a couple we don’t know in a country few of us have ever stepped foot in will tie the knot.
If that paragraph seems anticlimactic, my apologies. The above paragraph is indicative of my state of mind today, as I sit at my desk and prepare myself for the next twenty four hours. The Royal Wedding slumber party (yes, I’ve packed my pink pajamas) is sure to include equal parts girlie bridal conversation, insufficient sleep and a seriously hungover Friday. Am I excited? Yes. But not for the reasons you’d assume.
So why are a group of intelligent, attractive (I said it, ladies), employed and highly ambitious women waking up in the middle of the night to watch what will likely be mostly pre-taped segments on the royal couple?
“Crowns!” “Princesses!” “Fairytales!” are reasons being bandied about by the media, even by friends and colleagues of mine looking to explain away Wedding mania.
But we are not sad sacks waiting for princes, white horses or even promises of riches (although the riches we’ll take, if they come with a sense of humor, good personal hygiene and a penchant for delicious snacks and cocktails).
No, we watch because it’s a Royal Wedding, damnit. And we are citizens of the World.
The way I see it, the world’s population has become increasingly fragmented, something I blame largely on the Internet and social media. Sure, it brings people together, but also allows us to form niche audiences and groups. So, by coming together with smaller and smaller groups of likeminded people, we are pulling away from the pack. Make sense? Stay with me. The same thing is happening politically, right? The parties are polarizing, nations are radicalizing and some are even barring their citizens from news sources they don’t approve of. Whether divided by quirky interest groups online or our own countries closing ranks, we’ve become less a planet, and more a bunch of far-flung groupings of disconnected people.
But every once in a while an international event takes hold of the globe.. In these types of global happenings—the World Cup Finals, say, which this year saw an audience of 700 million, or even the last Royal Wedding in 1981 with 800 million viewers around the world—choosing to care doesn’t really matter. The entire planet comes together, whether as active participants, passive viewers or those of us, who, by osmosis, get caught up in the international frenzy. In 1981, 800 million people watched Prince Charles marry the innocent Diana Spencer. I’ll say it again, friends: 800 million people. For scale’s sake, the population of America is just over 300 million.
But what other international events have brought us together as citizens of the world? Recently, when Michael Jackson passed away at age 50, his funeral was televised live worldwide to an audience of 31 million, not including the staggering online presentation that saw traffic spikes onCNN’s website of roughly 72 million page views during the service, according to web analytics firm Omniture. Facebook reported 800,000 status updates reflecting the memorial.
When the Berlin Wall came down in 1989 and East and West Germany were finally united in 1990, millions tuned in each night to coverage that spanned nearly a year. When Bob Geldof’s first Live Aid concert was simulcast from Wembley Stadium in England and JFK Stadium in Philadelphia, an estimated 2 billion were simultaneously moved by the music of Madonna, Mick Jagger, Bob Dylan, U2, Run D.M.C. and dozens of other acts. As London emcee Richard Skinner announced, “It’s twelve noon in London, seven AM in Philadelphia, and around the world it’s time for Live Aid.”
So.
When I wake up, bleary eyed and big-headed on my friend Maura’s couch tomorrow morning and turn on the television to watch Kate Middletonwed Prince William, I can say honestly that I’m not in it for glimpses of the lavish wedding cake (though I heard there’re two!), the Princess fairytale or even the slight chance that Middleton’s bad-boy uncle will be throwing back one too many Old Speckled Hens. Nor will I be scouring the web all afternoon today, looking for little known or late-breaking details of tomorrow’s service (though I have linked to the official program for those who like to know these things). No, tomorrow I’m in it for the same reason that I packed into sweaty, crowded bars this summer to watch teams I don’t support in countries I’d never dream of travelling to pummel each other on the football pitch. These are times that remind the world that we are, in fact, one very large world, and not many very tiny ones.
You can argue with my logic. You can call me too earnest for my own good. But whether you like it or not, by the end of the day tomorrow, no matter if you seek out the information or attempt to ignore The Weddingentirely, you will know who designed Kate Middleton’s wedding dress.
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