Assholes who came to wreck the city: Thankfully there were only a handful of you, one in particular who came all the way from California just to smash some windows.  Other than that, I was fearing the worst from you and was surprised it wasn’t too bad.

Police who abused power on Thursday, Friday and Saturday: kindly fuck off. You’re supposed to be here to protect and serve. Remember: Mob Mentality works both ways.  I was fearing the worst from you and got it.

I’ll be the first to admit that I was in denial that Pittsburgh might have been able to handle things better than other cities in regards to the G20, WTO, etc.  Instead what we gave the world was not an ground-breaking platform for worldwide economic or health care reform… What we gave the world was a terrifying new way to quell dissent; one of sheer force against an unruly few.

We were touted as leaders in the Steel industry, then health care, technology and “green” technology.  Now we can add “how to create and run a Police-state” to that list.

And to think that during the day things were handled relatively well; except for using the LRAD device in neighborhoods with families who wanted nothing to do with the day’s “action”.  At night, however, it was like the police-state switch was turned on by the city. With directives from Mayor Luke Ravenstahl’s “Intelligence Apparatus”, you descended upon Oakland with something not seen in the streets of Pittsburgh in recent memory against a few and those unfortunate to be in the area who were simply curious.  Reading live feeds from Twitter and sites like G20Buzz.com, made me sick and fearful.   Videos on Youtube showed bad judgment by both sides in Oakland.  It showed that freedom in America may truly be dead.

Police want sympathy for what they go through (perhaps deservedly so) when their fellow officers are hurt or killed in the line of duty. But, they can’t have it both ways and terrorize innocent civilians and students who are far less of a threat to them – or the peace – than some crazed gunman with an assault rifle in Stanton Heights.  Students are ignorant, curious and confused, but storming Towers lobby with M-16s (were M-16s necessary?) and pointing them in students faces; herding everyone in Schenley Plaza like cattle, while telling everyone to disperse, then refusing the ability for anyone to leave; mocking arrested students by forcing them to pose as a trophy with 10-15 officers (Abu Ghraib, anyone?); bragging to others by taking pictures with women you arrested – it’s all sickening.

She said one of the officers was “taking a lot of pride” in taking mug shots next to female detainees, and that other officers frequently used profanities specifically derogatory to women.

“Some of them were making jokes when they were moving around from paddy wagon to paddy wagon about ‘getting the hot ones out,’” she said. – Post Gazette

Pittsburgh Police: I realize this wasn’t entirely in your hands and that there were many others from out of town who were involved. Just like the few protesters who come from out-of-town specifically to wreak havoc, I’m sure there are a few bad officers on the police-side of things that wanted to be here to bash heads. But this just further destroys the notion that you are here “to protect and serve”. You’ve allowed your reputation to be damaged locally and most likely globally; that even in the wake of what happened in April, people will no longer sympathize and instead think that what they see on TV is how Pittsburgh Police act and that how police-state / martial law in America is no longer hyperbole, but reality.   Great job, you may have now sewn more anger, dissent and confusion with which you need to deal.

I don’t know which way the fallout will drift, but we’ll see and what, if anything, will be overlooked on purpose or hushed up as not to further embarrass the city.

Unfortunately, the actions by police over these two days will not be scene by law enforcement as “we may have stepped over the line,” but as “so that’s how you get people to do what you want!”

I continued to watch the events unfold on television, morbidly waiting for the abject horror of something happening.  Something that would rise out of ignorance on both sides of this protest.  Would it devolve into chaos, if so, when?  I started to wonder if I was safe in my new found haven. Police were shown to be going street by street, searching warehouses in the Strip for protesters suspected of hiding inside of them.  I started to wonder if they would then conduct a search like that of open places in Lawrenceville, bars, restaurants, or worse: people’s homes.

I wondered if I could be trapped and if so for how long and if I attempted to make my escape back to my apartment could I make it, how many detours would I have to take, if I was to take side streets, would I be a suspect or a person of interest? Would Police read my mind and discover my intent (would they then lie and say my intent was that of destruction or chaos?).  Would I appear as a blip on Ravenstahl’s “intelligence apparatus”?

Monster-man returned inside brandishing his anti-protester stick.  Which turned out to be a baseball bat with duct tape wrapped around the large end with the words “anti-protester stick” written in black marker.  I did not think that this man would actually take to the streets with this bat and attempt to deliver his version of justice, at least not unless provoked.  But I would never underestimate a potentially hazardous combination of ignorance, alcohol and mob mentality. It’s nearly as dangerous as a combination of ignorance, power and mob mentality. The latter is what the police bring to these situations.

On both sides many don’t know why they’re truly there, or perhaps they’re a bit misguided. Perhaps on the police side it’s a higher percentage. I don’t know.  They don’t have to know why they’re there, just that they’re needed.  It doesn’t have to be anything other than black and white for them; they have their orders and their chain of command.  There doesn’t need to be any questioning.  It’s what makes them effective, it’s what makes them very dangerous.

I decided it was time to attempt my escape back up to Bloomfield.  Penn Avenue looked clear all the way up to Main.  I once again thanked Asia for letting me keep my bike inside and left. There were people walking up Penn as well, away from the action of the Strip District.  I knew this wasn’t the end of it, but didn’t know what was next.  As I arrived at Penn and Main, the protesters were continuing their march and had come from Liberty on Main to Penn Avenue.  There were few police around and this was either going to invite more people to join them or the police would soon be on their way.  I biked along side them until they got to Friendship Avenue, I continued on Penn, they turned onto Friendship, most likely heading toward Friendship Park.

I raced home to get my camera battery and then continued on to Friendship Park.  There was not much happening in the park. I knew they were not going to stay there for very long. The protesters knew they couldn’t be there for very long or else they’d probably be surrounded by riot police who were surely on their way. I overheard a couple of them who said the plan was to head to Oakland / CMU; they were headed toward Phipps, no doubt, where the G20 dinner was to take place. I watched them leave the park just as riot police began to arrive on the scene, most likely up from Liberty Avenue and the Strip where they were previously amassed.  I planned to get a head of the march through the side streets of Bloomfield and get ahead of them on Millvale, but found it difficult to get through lines of riot police blocking off my planned route along Liberty Avenue.

The crowd on Liberty was bewildered.  All day they had heard the sirens of police movement; and a recent buzz of damage done to the local PNC branch at Liberty and Edmond flew through the crowd faster than the news of a Steelers win. I chose  to check out the damage at PNC instead of what turned into the Battle of Ritter’s on Baum Boulevard, during which a friend of mine was shot with a rubber bullet in the arm while she attempted to disperse when things went sideways.

I read more reports of the protesters heading directly into Oakland proper and decided it probably was best for my safety not to  venture there.  Something nagged at me that there would be the point at which things devolved and became ugly.  Unfortunately, I was right.

I returned to my seat at the bar to watch the madness with a purpose – which may never succeed – unfold on TV.  Protesters and Police standing off a good distance away from each other, both slowly advancing.  In the crowd a large white banner could be seen with spray-painted blue letters that said, “Let’s Go Pens.”  Just below the sign was a kid in a Penguins jersey carrying a replica of the Stanley Cup.

The station had been muting the sounds emanating from the crowd, concern about the language that they were using, but suddenly they allowed it to be played live.  Maybe they thought that this was news for posterity and decided to let the chaos through… but then I heard it.  A familiar 3/4 metered chant repeated in perfect sync that was getting louder and louder through the television speakers, “Let’s go Pens! Let’s go Pens! Let’s Go Pens!”  I cannot say I was surprised by this turn of events. Only in Pittsburgh, would a supposedly Anarchist riot, suddenly turn sports-related and have John Oliver of The Daily Show cover it.  I asked Asia if she had ever seen an anti-government protest turn into a sports rally, “Not to my knowledge.”  I told her that I wasn’t surprised and that the only thing that surprised me was the lack of Terrible Towels, but perhaps the Steelers’ loss to the Bears last week culled some of the excitement for football.

I can’t say for certain what the police standing in lines 3-deep thought about that moment, when for 10 minutes a near constant chant occurred for the Pittsburgh Penguins.  Local officers would probably have been a bit bemused had they not been facing a crowd that was part ominous and had rolled garbage dumpsters down Liberty Avenue toward them.

The surreal spectacle on the television was interrupted by Monster-man, who entered boisterously with pride and exclaimed, “I got a trophy for the bar!  I grabbed this off of some asshole’s head outside!”  Toward the bar he walked with a feeling of triumph as he showcased his prize: a blue plastic helmet with a “resist g20″ sticker on the side.  I took his picture with my phone – having forgot my camera being the main reason I decided not to leave sooner – and could see it in print or posted on the web somewhere with the caption: “Area man claims trophy from G20 Protester.” It was with a relief that he had not, in fact, decapitated the man to claim his prize.

After a few pictures were taken, he handed it, with near-satiated pride to Asia who put it on the shelf near a few other collectibles, some of which may have also been claimed by this monster of a Harley rider.  My attention was diverted, however, when I noticed a black-clad group of protesters congregating just outside the bar.  I walked toward the door and could hear the heckles from the local population who were clearly unhappy with what was happening to their rustic neighborhood.

I walked out to see this frail-thin african-american woman, who would have been blown over by a light breeze yelling directly at the masked-protesters in front of the bar.  The protesters tried to ignore her and plot their next move.  Were they planning a retreat, a flank or were they waiting for reinforcements before heading toward the Strip District again? I wasn’t sure and apparently neither were they as they couldn’t possibly block out, “Get out of my neighborhood! You know what you remind me of? You crackers remind me of the Ku Klux Klan storming up my lawn when I was kid!  All hooded and masked and shit, you’re cowards just like they were! Get out of here! Leave us alone.”

At these words, the protesters actually paused and stared at her. Realizing that they could be facing hate-crime charges, they began to walk up Penn Avenue, only to quickly change course and scatter into the side streets as an armored vehicle came rolling slowly down the street.  On top was an LRAD device, this was like a car alarm on steroids and at 140 decibels.  Monster-man and others quickly cheered for its arrival, only to have the cop operating the device give him a thumbs up before targeting a group of protesters / people on the road. Jesus fuck this thing was loud!  And the police showed indifference to anyone who got in its path, even poor dogs that went completely crazy, one falling over in terror.

Everyone scattered some toward the bar as people continued to maneuver throughout the side streets only to have the LRAD follow them. Monster-man said to some of the others standing outside with him, “I’ll be right back guys, time to go get my anti-protester stick.  Hey, Asia, I’ll be right back.”  Asia rolled her eyes as I sat back down at the bar and said to her, “Bet you my next drink it’s a baseball bat.”

I looked outside and sure enough, swarms of black-clad people were coming up 36th and rounding the corner on to Penn Avenue.  Car alarms were blaring, some of the people outside were running, several with more purpose than others. I yelled out to nobody in particular, “Jesus Christ my bike is out there!”

“You can bring it inside, just put it in the back room.”  I thanked the barmaid and ran outside.  I heard a strange sort of thumping sound and a sudden panicked cheer; I watched for a few seconds as a storm of people and dust flew toward me.  I stopped for a second, for it was a strange color, not the hippies, but the dust. It was one I hadn’t really seen before; it wasn’t dust or smoke it was more a yellow color I remember seeing until I had to snap my eyes shut, “Jesus! God! They’re using artillery on us!”

I felt sick again as I made my way to my bike to unlock it.  Coughing and tearing up, I saw a pair of shoes stop right beside me as I finished removing the lock.  It was an older gentleman, probably late fifties and he smiled sadly at me and reached into a large ziplock bag and handed me a small white cloth.  I reached for it and it was soaked with wetness.  “It’s saline.  Stay safe. God Bless.” And he walked off.  I covered my eyes with it and the pain went away.  Monster-man opened the door to the bar for me and I put my bike in the back room.  I returned to the bar and told the barmaid, “I think it’s about time I have a real drink.”

She returned with my drink, I thanked her for letting me keep my bike inside and asked her for her name.  She told me it was Asia, and that she had just moved here from Portland where she saw and took part in many demonstrations and protests in her life and was glad to be away from most of that because they were usually marred by idiots who only sought irresponsible destruction in the name of peace.  She had bailed out friends and lovers many times from jail and needed a reprieve.  I asked her how this compared to the ones in which she participated. “Terribly organized, no focus,” was her quick response.

I looked once again out side and noticed that the traffic of masked people, a man dressed as a cow and another man milking him had reversed direction.  Monster-man stood guard at the door as a protester nervously approached him, not realizing it was like walking up to a hungry lion.  He asked to use the restroom and Monster-man refused him entry; there was fear in that kid’s eyes. He couldn’t have been more than 19 or 20 years old and there seemed to be recognition that his life-expectancy would dramatically shorten should he enter the premises. Then I heard another bark of words directed to others from Monster-man, “Hey! You girls would look much better if you were dressed up in stripper outfits and came in here to dance!”  They paused, not quite realizing what they have been asked to do. “I’m serious! Especially you,” as he singled one out.

to be cont’d…

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.

Part 2