I was already late before I even woke up. Still, part of me hoped that everyone had been blowing it all out of proportion. On Wednesday, I’d heard rumors that 4 to 5 million people — about half of the city’s total population — would descend upon City Hall starting at 5 a.m. Thursday to see the New York Knicks championship parade, but I didn’t want to believe it. So when I put on my Knicks hat and walked out the door at 8 a.m. to head into the Financial District from Fort Greene, I was in for a bit of a rude awakening.
Photo: Bing Guan
It’s a commute I take every single day to get to my office, typically just 24 minutes door-to-door. When I caught the C train at 8:10 a.m., I was feeling optimistic. There were only three other people on my train car with Knicks merch among the usual set of men in suits and girls in tabi flats. My group chat was suggesting different routes to take as news of stations below Canal Street closing flooded our timelines. Google Maps told me my train would be stopping at Fulton Street in Manhattan — my original plan — but once we passed High Street in Brooklyn, all hell broke loose. “There’s too many people on the platforms!” our conductor announced. “Next stop, Canal.” The car groaned, Knicks fans took a sip from their brown paper bags, and one girl let everyone know, “This is such a bad day to have a state exam.”
The crowd at Canal Street. Brooke LaMantia.
The crowd at Canal Street. Brooke LaMantia.
When we stopped at Canal, it was already backed up, over a mile away from where the parade was supposed to be. Every way I looked, people were stuck. I checked my phone. It was 8:42 a.m., and it would be a 32-minute walk to my office. Online, I checked how people were faring. Based on some Instagram videos, it didn’t look too good.
After finally getting out of the subway, I felt like I was in Times Square: Groups were riding Citi Bikes into crowds, police cars were blocking streets, and kids were crying (I felt them deeply). A man behind me gasped, “My God.” I walked south as far as I could until I ran into a barricade, and then turned around. I walked east as far as I could until I reached a barricade again, and immediately I had to sit down. I was no closer to the parade or my office or my house, and as a group of teen boys zoomed past me yelling, “Bro, we’re cooked,” I knew it was time to accept my fate.
They saved me, low-keyMy step countBrooke LaMantia.
They saved me, low-keyMy step countBrooke LaMantia.
Even though security was tight — no bags were allowed into the pens, and people weren’t able to access the parade loop after 7 a.m. — and I was overwhelmed beyond comparison, spirits around me were high. In front of me, a dad pointed out the Brooklyn Bridge to his daughter while wearing matching Jalen Brunson jerseys, and I spotted a couple kissing. Chaos, it turns out, doesn’t always have to be bad.
The crowd outside the office. Brooke LaMantia.
The crowd outside the office. Brooke LaMantia.
Two hours and 5,647 steps later, I finally laid eyes on my office and let out a sigh of relief. As much as I would have loved to get a glimpse of Mayor Zohran Mamdani and Jalen Brunson in the flesh, watching the parade from my laptop never sounded better.
KAT and NYC Mayor Mamdani hit the “lean back” 😂 pic.twitter.com/vLBuZgRW1w
— NBA on ESPN (@ESPNNBA) June 18, 2026
Photo: Bing Guan
Photo: Bing Guan
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