The Pittsburgh G20 Protests: Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
We were somewhere around Lawrenceville, on the edge of the Strip District when the tear gas began to flow. Riding down just ahead of the protesters when a group of police on bicycles flew by me and I remember saying, “I feel a bit queasy, I think I should pull over.” All I knew was I needed water and quickly.
I hadn’t eaten much since breakfast and felt like I would be sick. I stopped at 37th and Penn and watched another group bike cops coast down the hill toward the Strip District. Terribly out of shape, I panted, “I’m not equipped for this. I need fuel.” I continued down Penn and found myself in front of a quiet dive bar guarded by a monster of a biker with long hair and wearing a Harley Davidson cap. The physical exertion of riding up Main, then 39th then 38th had exhausted me and I was close to emptying the contents of my stomach all over the place.
I began to lock up my bike with the stop sign when the behemoth spoke, “You shouldn’t leave your bike there – the brothers will be all over it.”
“I’m not staying too long, just waiting this madness out.”
“You one of them pussy protesters who whine about taxes and don’t do shit with their life, but make mine hell?”
“Absolutely not, I’m a God-fearing patriot much like yourself, mind if I get some water inside? Your next beer is on me.” He smiled and opened the door for me. What I found inside was a caricature of the Pittsburgh of lore, rugged old iron workers drinking Miller High Life and pounders of Miller Lite. What was surprising was the cute barmaid behind the counter, inked to high heaven; she had a cute, but carnal look to her.
“I’d just like some water and a beer for the monster-man outside protecting you from all the chaos.” She brought me the water and told me not to worry about him that he was harmless.
“Man, I heard the police are all lined up with nightsticks and helmets down on Penn. I should get my bike helmet and my anti-protester stick and go help them bash some heads.” Harmless, I’m sure.
Just then, we watched 3 school buses full of riot police rumble down Penn avenue toward the Strip. The monster-man came inside, thanked me for the beer when we were interrupted by a loud rumbling sound. A lanky man strolled in, “they just rolled dumpsters down 37th street to block police and they’re headed this way.”
The Area Monster-man leapt up more quickly that I ever imagined it possible and ran out the door.
Continued soon.
note: Yes, I did just recently watch Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas for the umpteenth time.
this is absolute garbage. it is self indulgent and trivializes the efforts of people who put their livelyhoods on the line for something they fucking believed in. all you did was talk shit about them and drink beer. don’t be so quick to condescend, you have no idea what you’re talking about. you being a lifeless caricature of an advertisement does not make you a patriot, standing up for your rights and remaining an active element of dissent does.
I said what needed to be said to placate and gain entry into the bar (read: I lied my ass off). I’m far from religious myself, but respect those who are in my attempts to respect all points of view; something you obviously do not do or else you’d spend less time attacking and more time engaging me in an attempt to see what I was writing about. This was written in an effort to present what I overheard and experienced yesterday while at local bar. Everything was from notes and updates to twitter that I sent out while watching from the sidelines.
If you had any sense of comprehension you’d notice it was more a critique on some of the local view points of what happened during the protests and not what actually was happening in Lawrenceville. Also, if you had read all the way through and noted what my inspiration was for this style, then maybe you’d be of better understanding (gonzo, or my feeble attempts at it).
Cheers
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