The War Party, part 10: BANG!

30.EP.27k: September 8, 2002.
"The War party, part 10:
BANG!"

People talk about anarchy
And taking up a fight
Well I'm afraid of things like that
I lock my doors at night
I don't rape, and I don't pillage
Other peoples' lives
I don't practice what you preach
And I won't see through your eyes
You want to change the world
By breaking rules and laws
People don't do things like that
In the real world at all
You're not a cop, or a politician
You're a person, too
You can sing any song you want
But you're still the same
--Hüsker Dü, "Real World."

        I follow the crowd down the street.
        We're in the centre of downtown, now. It's lunchhour. People stream out of buildings during lunchhour.
        The crowd builds in density.
        And the crowd sounds intensify until everything is a roar.
        And the temperature is climbing.
        And there are three helicopters above me, circling, keeping a tight formation.
        And the sun is very, very bright.
        And the sky is a digital blue.
        And the weight of the air is crushing me.
        And it's like yesterday, only worse.
        There's a group of people, somewhere ahead of me, and they're singing "Keep On Rocking In The Free World." Or, rather, it's more like an atonal chant.
        And so we all walk together, down the street. People come out of the shops to see what's going on.
        Stores to the left and right. An outdoor café, clothing shops, a music store, a magazine shop.
        Eventually, the personmass slows and stops. It has solidified.
        And there are people with banners, signs. And the sun is bright. And, above me, three black helicopters.
        This protest is the same thing, over and over and over. The last two days have been like experiencing a finely textured type of minimalist theatre. The same elements recombined in new, yet similar ways. As if the repetitions can give these activities meaning.
        Chanting, singing, signs, pamphlets, megaphones, cops, and soccer soccer soccer.
        I make my way through the crowd, mostly pedestrians and shoppers, now. The protesters are in front of me, now, about half a block away. Somehow, when the people began filling the streets, my line to the protesters was cut off.
        And the protest has settled in front of a McDonald's. This is 8th Avenue, the outdoor shopping mall. The crowd stands still, looking at someone standing in front of the McDonald's. And this person-- I think it's a male shape-- is saying something in a megaphone. But, as usual, what he's saying is too distorted. And, even if it wasn't distorted, the crowd is too loud.
        This area of downtown has small trees, put here by the City Of Calgary to bring a little nature into the downtown core, to beautify the area. There are protesters climbing the trees, holding signs, waving signs, things about environmentalism and marijuana and debt. And they're snapping branches off the trees as they position their feet in order to better lean over the crowd and blurt rhetoric.
        I pass a group of people in robes twirling. I can't tell if they're part of the protest, or just local fanatics.
        The guy in front of the McDonald's is yelling something, but it just sounds like generic squawking and feedback. Somewhere, in the mix there's a human voice.
        And there are so many people, now, in this small corridor, that none of the pedestrians can get by, or go into any of the stores. And the ones in the stores are trapped there by this wall of people.
        And so, to my right and left, bicycle police appear-- and they're all wearing black. And they position themselves between the stores and the crowd. They frame the crowd, and they create a two small paths for walkers to use. And also create an escape route for shoppers.
        And I try to get up to the guy with the megaphone, to hear what he's saying, to maybe make something out.
        And people are talking, yelling, chanting slogans. And somewhere someone is still chanting "Keep On Rocking In The Free World." Over and over and over.
        And I get closer and closer to the guy with the megaphone.
        And now my back is against a doorway, and the McDonald's is only a few feet away, and there are bike cops right beside me and people with tv cameras and people with microphones and there are flashbulbs and snapshots and more tv camera and journalists and hippies and yuppies and bored teens and shoppers and then--
        The crowd flexes itself, moves towards the McDonald's like a wave.
        And there's a sound like a collective gasp, and a billion pieces of paper rustling in the wind.
        And the bike police freeze.
        And their bikes come up, all at once, one movement, to their chests.
        And something is thrown at the McDonald's.
        And the police advance.
        And the protesters divide.
        And the police push forward, bikes at their chests, pushing protesters away from the McDonald's.
        And shouts.
        And a helicopter descends, hovers over the crowd, its rotors bouncing sound waves off the buildings, the beat of blades so strong and so loud I can feel it in my stomach: WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP         Someone screams: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAG!         Protesters in black are standing their ground as videocameras hang over their heads.
        And then one group of protesters starts chanting: "Don't give the media what they're looking for!
Don't give the media what they're looking for!
Don't give the media what they're looking for!
Don't give the media what they're looking for!
Don't give the media what they're looking for!
Don't give the media what they're looking for!
Don't give the media what they're looking for!"         And the police move forward, again.
        And I'm moving back, slowly, moving from doorway to doorway, checking latches, looking for safety, something to duck into if this whole thing gets out of hand.
        And: WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP         And the doors are all locked.
        And something else is thrown at the cops.
        And the cops inch forward one step, two steps.
        And a mass of voices: "We are people, how 'bout you!?
We are people, how 'bout you!?
We are people, how 'bout you!?
We are people, how 'bout you!?
We are people, how 'bout you!?
We are people, how 'bout you!?"         And: WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP
WHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUPWHUP         And the crowd is frozen.
        And, then, as quickly as it swooped in, the tension evaporates.
        The helicopter leaves.
        The police are still there, standing with their bicycles against their chests. But the protest is moving on, now.
        And, within a few minutes, everything begins to break up.
        Business people walk away, shoppers resume shopping, the doors unlock, and the crowd of protesters, not quite a unified mass now, begins to go in separate directions.
        The core soccer players go off to disrupt traffic somewhere else.
        People with banners retreat.
        The protesters in the trees climb down.
        The media leaves.
        I decide not to follow any of the groups. I've had enough excitement for today, and besides it's hot. I need to get inside. My head is throbbing and I need a mall.
        I walk across the street, in the opposite direction of what little activity is left on the street. I'm careful not to run, or even jog. Calmness is important, now.
        I don't want to attract attention.
        Just because the tension has passed, that doesn't mean it can't flare up again.
        I find a mall entrance.
        I pull the doors open.
        Cool, refreshing, refrigerated air hits me in the face.
        I sigh, relieved.
        And then I remember:
        "Shit! I forgot to call Adrian!"

Next: Oh, that Martha....

Epilogue 27l.
Epilogue 27j.
INDEX.
HOME