Ah... The 50th. We knew better than to try and walk across. Instead, we partied hearty with folks who lived on Union - with a bridge-view from the backyards. There were lots of decks and balconies that we clamored over, cocktails in-hand, making new friends, annoying a few others, and having an otherwise raucous good time.
I remember the day I sailed underneath it heading for Viet Nam. And the night we flew over it - in a Pan Am 747 - coming home.