Harry Potter 7, World Premiere

July 5^th

I arrive at Trafalgar Square at night and my name is placed on a list of people who are arriving early (so that, I am told, Warner Brothers will let us go into the actual red carpet area first, in order of longest-camp-out to shortest-camp-out). I am told that the list was actually organized by the Canadian fans who have been camping out for the entire week, and that Warner Brothers isn’t even here yet. I am told that Warner Brothers likes their idea and will be using it instead of whatever they had planned earlier. I sleep in a small tent with 2 friends, around others who are in similar circumstances. This is what I imagine a refugee camp feels like. I have a blanket, but the heavy rain manages to seep into the tent somehow anyway, leaving me damp, cold, and with a mild fever in the morning.

July 6^th

I leave the camp to go get Bianca from the hostel in the morning, and come back to find that everyone has been herded into a pen like animals. There is little to no room to sit, and I am told that wristbands will be handed out “soon”. 5 hours later, someone starts calling out names from The List, in an attempt to let those who were here longer get into the area sooner. The man doesn’t have a microphone, and it’s hard to hear my name. After a few minutes of trying to listen, I just go get my wristband and go inside to find a camping spot. We end up about 5 people away from the railing in front of the red carpet, so it’s a pretty good spot, I might not be able to see them but I might get their autographs. It rains throughout the day and night, off and on, but the excitement pulls us through.

July 7^th

Anyone who likes anarchy is a fool.

At 5 am, I feel feet stepping on and around me, people from the back were already starting to push forward. With no regard to the people who actually slept here in the rain for 2 (or more) nights, people who arrived this morning are just stepping over and rushing the red carpet at 5 am. The premiere doesn’t start until 5pm, do they expect to just stand here for 12 hours? We power through a few hours, but standing and struggling in a crowd that will not think twice before punching and kicking their way past me (which they spared me from, but others were not so lucky) is not how I wanted to spend the day.

At noon, I realize that the only way I’m going to get closer to the carpet and past this human wall is by being just like them—violent and just rude. When I was a child, I was taught that cutting in line is bad. I was taught that kicking and shoving to get what I want is bad. These, along with other components, constructed what my parents called ‘manners’ and ‘politeness’, neither of which I planned on losing today. And as much as I love Harry Potter, people I’ve never met who live thousands of miles away don’t have that much control over me. Besides, if it was Harry Potter I had a chance to see, then I might pull through, but it’s not. It’s Daniel Radcliffe, a person just like any other person who happens to play a part in one of the best stories ever told.

When in dilemmas like these, a good rule of thumb is this—act with grace, and you’ll never be disappointed in your actions.

Instead of “doing what it takes” to get to the front-ish area (with over 7 hours left until the premiere starts), Bianca and I peeled ourselves out from the wall and examined from afar. We sneaked around on the red carpet and took photos around the area.

20 minutes later we found ourselves at Pret, an incubator of good coversation.

“J.K. Rowling is seriously such a genius,” I say, taking a sip of my mocha, “the amount of time and effort that she put into creating a whole new world that ties everything together so seamlessly… gah I love Harry Potter so much!”

Bianca nods, and the conversation moves to other brilliant people we like. I bring up Titian, the painter who painted one of my favorite paintings (Bacchus and Ariadne), and then realize that the National Gallery was right there. As we walk past the growing herd of people slowly shoving into Trafalgar Square, girls screaming, people crying, people shoving and kicking and punching their way past each other, I'm reminded once again--

“All this for people who play characters that are cool?” Bianca says. 

We don’t go into Trafalgar Square, instead, we go to the National Gallery.

After 2 brutal nights of sleeping on concrete in frigid rain, I ended up leaving before the premiere ever started because I didn't want to have a miserable time fighting people over silly things. I took a few moments to watch the premiere while walking through some rooms with large windows (Emma Watson’s dress was just as pretty in person), knowing that I might not have gotten to see anything if I was still down there in the hovel.

Today, I chose to value Monet over Tom Felton, Van Gogh over Daniel Radcliffe, Da Vinci over Rupert Grint. And I regret nothing.