Oh gosh, I almost forgot the most exciting part of my Washington
D.C. adventure. When I left the rally to go look for the car, I ran
into the chaos resulting from the attack on the Justice Department.
Up by the Capital, I found pigs arm in arm, holding their wooden
sticks, blocking the streets where the frenzy took place. I needed
to get through the human barricade in order to get to the car, so I
figured that since I didn't take part in the Justice Building
mayhem, the pigs would let me pass. I was mistaken. As I approached
the blockade, I could see the tension in the pigs rise. When I asked
if I could cross through, I was greeted with "You son-of-a-bitch,
nobody gets through!" As I was wondering how I was going to get to
the car, the pig's attention turned to the cat who followed me up to
the battle line. The cat wanted to pass through also and when the
pigs told him to get lost, he started screaming at the pigs to let
him pass. The cat's disrespect for the law didn't set well with the
Sergeant in charge. He came out from behind the men holding their
wooden sticks, hollering, "I ain't taking no sass from an asshole
hippie." As the kid turned and headed back toward the crowd the guy
kicked him in the rear end, sending him to the pavement. The kid
picked himself up and yelled back, "I'm gonna sue you fucker, I'm
gonna sue you." All the time the kid was yelling, he was walking
backwards toward the crowd. Once he was safely in the crowd, he
turned and was gone.
At the conclusion of this whole sorted scene, I turned to see where
the chanting I was hearing was coming from. Down the street, coming
in my direction, I saw a very large group of people walking towards
where the pigs had set up their battle line. The crowd, a massive
group of radicals, maybe 3000 strong, were throwing rocks and
kicking in storefront windows. My adrenalin started pumping, but I
didn't run, I just moved closer to a building over by the sidewalk.
I thought to myself, "This could get interesting. Here are 3000
angry protesters about to take on fifty pigs draped in riot gear."
As the radicals approached, the pigs raised and extended their
interlocking arms. The rebels were lead by a Goliath of a man, maybe
seven feet tall, with long flowing hair, waving above his head a an
eight foot wooden pole. He was yelling back at the mob, "Don't
disperse. Don't disperse." From where I was standing, the pigs were
about to get massacred.
Never underestimate the "powers that be." In the dark, behind the
blue wall of uniforms, somebody switched on the lights. National
Guard troops, hiding under the cloak of darkness, were waiting to
back up the men in blue. Before I could get over the shock of seeing
military men in the streets of Washington D.C., the tear gas started
to fly. Everybody, radicals and by-standers alike, panicked; burning
gas was everywhere. It was full ahead retreat for me, I never looked
back; I just kept running from ground zero. Some of the people were
not so lucky, in Washington D.C. ambulance sirens rang out
throughout the night.
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