Notes from the NY Not In Our Name Protest:
5 am: Can’t sleep, adrenaline pumping overtime; become reacquainted with sunrise.
9 am: Get paged into the office. Cabling issues, wonderful. Timing couldn’t be better. Decide breakfast is overrated, bike into work.
11 am: Problems fixed, am eating bacon and egg on a roll. Resolve to never again underrate breakfast. Cancel brunch at Dizzy’s. Can I bike back, get prepped for the protest, make it back? Decide no. Jump onto the SDMB. SDMB very underrated; also bacon and egg on a roll.
11:30 am: Last of organizing phone calls in, fortunately have cell phone charger in office. Organizing parties a lot more fun, plus much easier.
12:30 pm: Am at 86th & Lex. Voice mail says everyone running late.
12:35 pm: Linger at the 92nd St Y Fair. Get a Shiatsu massage. Get Don, who is now my boy; Don’s hands are like pistons; I feel chi flow, is excellent. Don gives me an extra 10 minutes because he likes my musculature. Me too, Don. I give him an extra $10, get his card.
1 pm: Met one of my friends, we’re walking our way up the park. By 93rd street, it’s a madhouse. Half naked women, street theater staging, a woman wearing a placard that details wrongdoing by US in Angola. Go us.
1:05 pm: We enter at 97th street. We get handed roughly an old-growth forest worth of fliers. Many actually having to do with the protest. I congratulate the** Veterans For Peace** contingent. Everyone wearing great shirts, great slogans. Speak to the Oberlin for Peace contingent. They appear to be about 14 years old, but are completely covered with inner light, plus facial hair.
1:10 pm: Where Ace signs up for everything. Next week, I will Stop Saddam by Riding a Bike while Toking Twice for Justice not Oil. Or something. I take the “test your political ideology” test. Still dead centrist. I make a note to tell Uigi, who sent me prior cautionary e-mail about posting my Ultra Left Wing ideological rants. Be v. afraid of the strong center!
1:12 pm: Get distracted by the Women’s V-Ball. They’re damn good, especially the wiry one with the cut shot. I’m in lust. They had no idea about today.
1:15 pm: We have worked out most important part of protest; where we’re at. We have compromised between standing by the stage, and sitting on the grass. From our vantage point, the East Meadow has over 10,000 people in it already; people are streaming in via the east gates. Everyone is laughing, giving the creative signs thumbs up. Families, couples, all ages and races are here. Saw a 80 year old and a 1 year old. Incredibly hot contingent of Indian chicks, but they were sitting higher on the natural stadium. Am bummed about compromise.
1:20 pm: Notice other hot chicks. Not wearing underwear. Go me and my compromising skills. Love me some leftist women. Lust in my heart, and elsewhere.
1:25 pm: Program about to start. Now 15,000 people, still a jam by the entrance. The East Meadow is covered with a rainbow of smiling faces. The Sun has just come out, and people start stripping down and catching rays, lying out on blankets like I have at home, and eating their picnic lunches like mine still in the fridge. Signs, everywhere signs. Get Your War On make the rounds. We laugh about Voltron. Flyer says, “adopt a minefield benefit.” Really? Someone flies a kite. Go Charlie Brown.
1:30 pm: Program starts. Beautifully voiced Indian MC; Young but amazingly qualified man with requisite backwards cap; People are exhorted to move to the left. Second MC notes that everyone here is in the process of moving to the left, and that’s a good thing.
1:45 pm: Beautiful program. People who lost family members in the towers start it off.
2 pm: Women who’s husband was abducted, deported, with no information is breaking down on stage. I missed the intro, turn to a friend: “Was this here, or Iraq?” It was here. I get a good cry, hope my masculinity still secure. Doff my shirt.
2:05 pm: People are still coming late. Opera in the Park redux.
2:30 pm: Tom Duane gives a fiery speech, not like him at all. Go power nerd.
2:37 pm: The reverend, the rabbi, and the mosque leaders have all the best speakers. Some Irish guy really funny and sad at the same time. Must look up the German word for it.
2:39 pm: Law professor? Throws patriot act/anti-bill of rights into audience, where it is torn to pieces.
2:45 pm: Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins bring the mother-fucking place down. Just destroy it. Tim: “We must fight fundamentalism in all its forms.” “Any religion that ties in with evil, loses me.” “Whether it is shooting at abortion clinic, or attacking with airplanes.” “Fundamentalists want to take away everything I hold dear, arts, dance, music… independent women…” SS: “I look out at you, and I’m glad to know I’m not crazy; not alone.” “We must support our courageous senators, Robert Byrd, Russ Feinstein, Barbara Boxer, Barbara Lee… and I suppose you could throw in the NY Senators.”
2:50 pm: Starving and thirsty. Make run for drinks. I promise to be back in time for the pledge. I hustle through the throng, and am stopped by Angola, now part of a 51 person equilateral triangle of American military intervention. A showstopper. My god, I had no idea about some of these. Who writes the history books?
2:59 pm: Skipped vendor, hit bodega. Why sell moldy bananas? Why more area behind counter than in front? Who knows. Going OJ, Avis Era to make it back. Hurdled many small dogs.
3 pm: Take pledge. 20,000+ people all reciting the same pledge. Like allegiance, but voluntary. Simply amazing. I bliss-out. All is white.
3: 15 pm: Drinking orange juice. Stella Dora cookies. Lunch v. underrated.
3:25 pm: Friends find me. I go over and say hello. Bastards have chairs. We talk with DOT and several smart people on full estimate. 22,000 people at max, maybe 27,000 attended ± 3,000. Great turnout. East Meadow can perhaps hold 37,000 if everyone held breath. Why do police always lowball turnout? Nobody knows.
3:30 pm: C. McKinney amazing speaker, v. moving. How did she ever get kicked out?
3:35 pm: Am reminded that she was in GA. How did she ever get elected? She could own NJ, simply own it.
3:40 pm: Much puppeteering, banners, “regime change… in the US.” “The Bprepared sign” loses points for unoriginality. “Axis of Evil” with the usual suspects, nice paper-mache.
4 pm: Many off-message speakers follow. At least they don’t repeat. Exhortations for money, followed by Obies with garbage bags labeled donations. They can’t hustle for beans. Should have the guys from Wash. Sq. Park!
4:30 pm: Apparently, this is also a rally for Puerto Rico, Cuba, Palestine, Native Americans, Police Brutality (anti), Leonard Peltier, Amadou, and I think I missed some. However, for these kind of rallies, message and speakers amazingly well mixed and coordinated. Several youngsters mixed in, everyone speaks for 60 seconds, including Martin Sheen.
4:35 pm: “I assume he wasn’t the lead singer for Talking Heads?” Uncomfortable silence. Don’t do drugs kids, lest you end up addlepated on stage.
4:40 pm: Latecomers left early. Dinner conversation fodder? Who knows. Comedienne Reno has us in stitches w. barking dog on stage. “You know, I’d feel safer if the government didn’t have the right to incarcerate me at the stroke of a pen, or come in and steal my hard drive in the middle of the night, but maybe that’s just me?” “Mr. Ashcroftinheimer…”
4:45 pm: Speakers have covered the gamut, from our Founding Fathers, to Margaret Mead. “Not in our name,” frequent closing. Saul Williams quite talented. Great rap tune; must buy album. Other musicians quite good, especially the Columbian; great pipes.
4:50 pm: Okay, that guy was just plain shrill. Ow.
4:55 pm: Backwards cap exhorts a final rally. Not In Our Name luminaries come forward to read the Times Ad. Amazing, what’s in there. Totally stoked. We all sing along with the Saul Williams title track, holding our representations of the world high.
5pm: We’re out. I’m exhausted. Bought much literature, sloganeering. Found some things not signed up for, signed up. We hit the 92nd St. Y fair for a funnel cake. Looks like we had a frosting fight. Yum, and I’m done.