Five hours in the life of the new Philly Portal

Like many, when I heard Philly was getting a Portal, the soundless interactive video installation that looks like the teleportation device from Stargate and connects people around the world, I was both excited and terrified.

We do deserve nice things here, despite what some might say, and people in the cities where Portals already exist — Dublin, Ireland; Lublin, Poland; and Vilnius, Lithuania — deserve to meet and interact with us, and vice versa.

That being said, Philadelphians are an extremely unserious people. It’s one of our best qualities, but it can also lead to questionable shenanigans, like the beheading of hitchBOT, the celebratory climbing of greased poles, and dumpster pool parties.

When a small crack appeared in the newly installed Portal, a spokesperson literally had to go on record to say we didn’t do it because everyone was so sure we did (it apparently happened in transit).

I decided to spend five hours at the Portal in LOVE Park on Wednesday, its second day in operation, to get a sense of not just how a few Philadelphians interacted with it, but how many did over a long period of time, and how residents and visitors in the other cities reacted to us.

I arrive at the Portal. There are 14 people here, including a guy in a “Grease them poles” shirt. Philadelphia Parks and Recreation ranger Bob Sullivan tells us we’re looking at Ireland and we have to make them wave by waving first.

“The Wednesday Walking Group” from CityView Condominiums stops by to check out the Portal after visiting Rodeph Shalom. Member Martha Schrenk, 64, points out that there’s a younger man looking at us from Poland and says: “You should wave at him! They don’t want to look at me.” (Oh, Martha!) A native New Yorker, Schrenk said she’s embarrassed they took the Portal away from her hometown because people were inappropriate. “It’s fabulous here,” she says, when I ask her what she thinks of Philly. “I hope no more New Yorkers come though.”

I turn around and see four people in red pointy caps that say “DUNCE” on them in large letters. Turns out, they work for a whiskey company called Dunce. “We thought it’d be fun to come out with these Dunce caps and see the reaction of the people on the other side,” Lee Noble, brand ambassador, tells me. “You didn’t bring a bottle of whiskey?” I ask. “Oh, there’s a bottle in my bag,” he says.

A kid on a scooter in Lithuania flips us off.

“It looks cold in Poland,” someone says. “At least they don’t look any happier than us.”

Someone in Lithuania does jumping jacks for us, then comes up to the camera to challenge someone to rock, paper, scissors.

Sullivan points out a guy in the center of the feed from Ireland: “He was out here all day yesterday. He’ll do whatever you do.” Since we don’t know this Irish lad’s name, I will call him Connor. Someone jumps, Connor jumps. Someone makes a heart, Connor makes a heart. When someone dances, Connor dances. Someone blows a kiss, Connor blows a kiss. Connor stays at the Dublin Portal for hours, pandering to us. When the screen changes, someone in Philly yells: “No! I liked him.”

A man in Lithuania approaches the Portal and unfolds a piece of paper. It reads “GO BIRDS.” We all freak out and scream. This is amazing!

A little girl in Poland walking with her grandma keeps turning around to wave hi to us.

A man in Lithuania jumps and clicks his heels for us like he’s Gene Kelly. A man in Philly holds up his baby to the Portal.

“Where is that?” a woman asks me. I tell her it’s Lithuania. “Where the hell is that?” she asks.

A young man in Philly breaks it down with some killer dance moves. The crowd in Dublin goes wild.

“I could do this all day,” someone near me says. I silently agree.

The crowd in Philly waves at a guy approaching the Portal in Lithuania who looks miserable and cold. Will he wave back? He does, and we cheer. Always take the small wins.

Someone in Philly dances the floss and someone in Dublin responds in kind.

A little girl in Ireland gives us double middle fingers.

A Philly bro with a buzz cut chants “U-S-A!”

A young person here holds up a handwritten “Beware Philly” sign.

“Yo! I bet there’s so many Pokémon here!” a teen in Philly says.

A car in Lithuania stops in the crosswalk and the driver waves to us. We all cheer.

A guy in Ireland blows us all the kisses.

A guy in Ireland smokes a joint. He makes sure we know it’s a joint by doing the universal symbol for a joint, holding it with his thumb and index finger, with his other fingers up.

“What kind of WiFi do they have? This is terrible,” someone in Philly says of the feed. It does get blurry and grainy at times.

A child plays with a toy truck on my foot. His mother is oblivious.

A girl in a school uniform in Ireland does a jig for us.

A man in Poland proposes to his girlfriend (or pretends to) and they make out in front of the Portal. The crowd here cheers. Love wins!

A man in a full-body, pink satin bunny suit with a matching pink parasol approaches the Philly Portal and does the Mummers strut.

“Can I just say, this is so strange,” says one observer.

“You might get sucked through, but you’re not going to fall through,” someone says.

Someone flies a drone over the crowd. When Sullivan sees it, he wags his finger and the drone flies away.

I overhear one man say to another: “Yesterday you said there’s no brothers in Poland. I got a picture of one for you today!”

I didn’t realize it was Wedding Wednesdays at LOVE Park (when couples get married by the LOVE sculpture) until I see gorgeous newlyweds Juan and Estefany Abrego. They hadn’t heard of the Portal before their big day, but they stop by to check it out. They’re one of at least three newlywed couples in Philly who do that day.

A man in Ireland opens up his jacket and reveals a Phillies shirt underneath. The crowd goes wild.

Sullivan again urges people to come closer to the Portal, assuring them: “You won’t fall in!”

“This is cute. I hope it lasts,” someone near me says, as the crowd swells to more than 75 people during the lunch hour.

Someone in Philly holds up a small handwritten sign to Lithuania that says: “LABA DIENA,” which means “good day” in Latvian.

A woman here runs up to the Portal while on FaceTime with her sister. “You see this? We in Poland!”

A dude in Dublin opens up his jacket to reveal an Eagles shirt underneath. The crowd cheers. I later learn he’s from Philly visiting Ireland.

A man holds up a “DALLAS SUCKS” sign here, which he’s written in black marker on the back of a “Nova National Champs” sign. It was only a matter of time.

I grab an al pastor quesadilla at a lunch truck at the park (I had planned to hit up Reading Terminal Market but don’t want to miss anything). I then stop to use the free, public Philly Phlush bathroom at the corner of 15th and Arch because I’m not only a proponent, I’m a client. I’m happy to report it was very clean.

A technical glitch causes the Portal to go black for several minutes before it returns to the feed from Lithuania.

Brand ambassadors with Sparkling Ice show up in blue and pink cowboy hats and offer people free Sparkling Ice if they pick a challenge out of a hat and do it in front of the Portal for the company’s TikTok account. One man is challenged to propose to his friend. He does. This calls into question the Poland proposal we saw earlier even more.

A kid in Dublin flips us off. Some teens here flip him off in return. A woman nearby chastises them. “No, that’s not us,” she tells the teens.

Two ladies sit on the bench in front of the Poland Portal and have a drink with us, except we don’t have drinks and they do.

A woman in Philly does the running man.

“This is too much fun,” someone here says.

A man arrives selling knockoff Eagles sweatshirts out of a rolling suitcase.

A woman says to her friend: “You going through, Carla?” She says: “Nah, not today. Maybe another day.”

A couple in Poland eat ice cream in our faces. Rude.

I overhear a woman say: “You know this will end up being a rom-com. Someone will come here every day at the same time and so will someone in one of the other cities and they’ll fall in love.”

Someone in Philly waves a Lithuanian flag to folks in Lithuania.

A few women here try to get the Macarena going.

The Portal glitches and a webpage pops up before the screen goes blank. “It’s like Black Mirror,” someone says.

The feed resumes in Poland.

“This is like a big-ass FaceTime,” one man says.

Two young women arrive with handwritten signs that read, “Hi from Philly” and “Go Birds.”

Someone points out that we are time traveling, since all of the other cities with Portals are ahead of us. “Yo, that’s dope! We are seeing the future!” a man says.

A couple in Dublin puts their phones up to the Portal. One has the Eagles logo on their screen and the other has a Wawa logo.

“But I want to know, what is the point of this?” someone asks.

Someone in Poland holds up their phone to the Portal. It just says “BEER” in giant letters. Cheers.

The Portal screen goes black again.

The feed returns in Ireland. A young woman in Ireland smokes a blunt on her end, and a young man lights one here in Philly.

A pretty, young woman approaches the Portal in Ireland. A guy here in Philly tries to give her his phone number by putting up his fingers to give her his digits (two fingers, then one finger, then five fingers, and so on).

Sullivan shows the crowd a photo on his phone of what the Dublin Portal sees when they look at us. “That is so cool!” someone says.

A dad and his kids walk like Egyptians for us in Lithuania.

I Slack my editor and ask if I can just live here and be our permanent Portal reporter now.

The Portal switches in between the other cities seemingly randomly, landing on one for a few minutes before switching to the next, but there’s nothing to indicate what city you’re looking at when it appears, which was one of the most frustrating parts of the experience.

If Sullivan wasn’t on hand to serve as de facto Portal whisperer, docent, and guardian, none of us would have known what city we were looking at (Sullivan’s tip — the one with the big intersection is Lithuania, the one with the big sidewalk is Poland, and the one with all the people is Ireland). Once he taught me, I told others who came.

Many people were surprised to learn the Portal has no sound. While some found it off-putting, I really loved that aspect. It forced people to find universal ways to communicate visually, and I was surprised and charmed by what I saw. Not only did people wave and make hearts with their hands, they blew kisses; made handwritten signs; challenged each other to rock, paper, scissors battles; and had dance-offs. Another universal physical act that took no words to explain — marriage proposals.

Finally, it brought all sorts of people from Philly out to one of our city’s great public spaces (but still, RIP old LOVE Park) to experience something unique with each other and with people on the other side of the world. Throughout the day I saw office workers, construction workers, jurors, dog walkers, babies, teenagers, kids, tourists, voting canvassers, hospital workers, and college students. They came by foot and on bicycles, by skateboards and on trains.

I saw many people I knew and talked with many strangers I didn’t, and when someone on the other side of Portal acknowledged us, we celebrated as a group (crowds ranged from about a dozen people to more than 75). It reminded me of one of Philadelphians’ other great qualities — the ability to find unbridled joy in the big and small things, like a simple hello — a joy that’s best celebrated together.

As someone who believes interacting with strangers in Philly and abroad has been crucial to her development as a human being, the Portal and the five I hours I spent there spoke to me. I hope it stays, I hope we treat it well, and I hope everyone gets a chance to experience it.