What It’s Like to Lead a Balloon in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade
On Thanksgiving Day, Kathy Kramer walks two and a half miles backwards. It isn’t some unusual new workout—Kathy is the main pilot for one of the balloons in the iconic Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade.
Each balloon requires dozens of handlers—the people holding the ropes that steer the balloon and keep it from floating off over New York City’s Central Park—but they need a director, someone to tell them when to walk, when to pause, and what to do about any dreaded “w-word” (that’s wind to the rest of us). All of that—and more—is Kramer’s job. Or, to be more accurate, her volunteer job. (She has a day job at Macy’s too, as the director of licensed business operations.)
This year, 2023, marks Kathy’s 39th year in the parade. “I’ve never actually seen it live on TV,” she admits. But she’s done it all, from walking next to floats to steering balloons toward Macy’s to tying the shoes of the people who can’t let go of their lines. This year, she’s responsible for every movement of the 50-foot high helium-filled Beagle Scout Snoopy.
This job—main pilot—is one she’s been doing for about 20 years, and has become such a pro that she trains others in the art of communicating with 80-plus people holding on to an enormous, helium-filled balloon.
While getting the balloon to Macy’s safely is a complicated and crucial task, there’s even more Kramer needs to think about: Each balloon is meant to fly a certain way—for its head or body to sail down the streets in a recognizable way that’ll delight the millions of people watching from the sidelines or their couches.
So when you’re watching the parade, see if you can tear your eyes from the balloons and look for the people walking (backwards!) in front of it: The people in coveralls and green hats are pilots. Kramer gets info via a headset about that finicky wind, and then she can tell her handlers, through whistles and hand gestures, how to respond to it.
Though Kramer doesn’t like to actually say the word wind (“I worry about everything,” she admits, like anyone responsible for a house-sized balloon ought to), she does warn her team about one surprising side effect of it.
“When it does occur, and it moves the balloon, the crowd loves it. They love seeing it. They say, ‘ooohhhhh!’ And when it comes back the other way, they say ‘ooohhhh!’ again,” she says. So before the parade, she tells everyone: “When that happens, you’re gonna want to look up. But please don’t! It’s still there.” Imagine, she says, if everyone holding a piece of the balloon looked up at the same time: “You try walking in a straight line!”
Life on the parade route
At 5 a.m., Kramer has to be at the Hammerstein Ballroom, not far from Macy’s, to get in costume. She lives in Manhattan and can take the subway, but some volunteers come from father afield, taking the bus in from other states in the wee hours.
Some years are frigid. Others are mild. So Kramer is an expert in layering. She also has her eating schedule down: Water or orange juice before the parade (note to aspiring balloon volunteers: no bathroom breaks), and an energy bar of some kind in case she needs it. The Thanksgiving feast comes later, after her balloon is safely delivered to the end of the route. And yes, she is the coolest guest at her family celebrations—one year, she even found parade jobs for her four siblings and their kids.
As for all that walking backwards, Kramer has gotten used to it. “The first year I did the piloting, I was fine the day I did it, but the next day, I almost couldn’t put my heel down on the floor,” she says. “It was crazy! I couldn’t go down a curb or a step.”
The next year, to prep, she figured she’d better get out there and get her legs ready, so she decided to do some backwards walking in her neighborhood. “But I did it in the dark because I thought my neighbors would be thinking, what are you doing out there? I only did it twice, though, because I thought, this is silly.” Her legs have never bothered her the same way they did that first time. “It must be some kind of muscle memory,” she says.
Or parade magic? Because there certainly is that: “Most of the time, I am so totally focused on the balloon. I’m all business,” Kramer says. “But every once in awhile we pause, and I get the chance to look over or up and I see the kids, and the adults too. They love the balloons. Everyone loves the balloons. There’s something special there, and I get to make a connection.”
Kramer, who has spent her entire adult life taking part in the parade, doesn’t think of her participation in terms of her age: “It’s a mindset,” she says. “There are people of all ages—20-somethings to people older than me, in their 70s. It’s like a little society. It’s an honor, and a privilege.”
It’s an experience that brings people together, newbies and those who are committed, like Kramer, to coming back year after year. “There is so much planning and organization behind it and they all make it look flawless.” There are more than 5,000 volunteers who come together to create this beloved tradition. “Their dedication and love for it really shows in how it comes off,” Kramer says. “We’re grateful that we have this.”
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