So, Boyfriend (points if you get this reference)--a.k.a. Lane--and I went down to the Inner Harbor on Monday. He headed to Water Street to check on a job and, because I didn't want to sit at home, I went into Filene's Basement (where, if I had any money at all, I would have bought copious amounts of things for myself and others).
While I'm trying on a winter coat that, in normal financial situations, is a steal I get a telephone call. Lane tells me to hurry outside for a parade. A parade?! That we didn't know about?! How exciting! I strip off the coat I cannot have and rush for the door. Standing at the balcony I watch as traffic keeps streaming by.
And I wait, finally calling him to be certain I am in the right place for this parade. Because... shouldn't traffic be blocked off for a parade? Then, I hear something. Drumming. Yes, that is definitely drumming. Here comes the parade!
Actually, it was a protest and I think they would prefer that it be called a march. One guy was wearing a handmade mountain on his head, there was a drummer, and they were all chanting. So, I take a picture. They are protesting mountain-top removal mining. Oh, hey, I--being from West Virginia, land of the mountaintops gone missing--know all about, and, yes, support what they are saying.
They are a stoic lot, marching by, oblivious to my shenanigans with a picture phone. Except for the last person in line, who is actually facing me instead of the road and flagging themselves as if I'm the guy operating the camera for the jumbo-tron at a sporting event. And, wait, this person even looks familiar.
Why, that's Lane! (And, yes, that is him too.
At right, with the signs!)
So I dash downstairs and run to catch up with the protest where he shoves a sign in my hand. He's of the "I jump, I drag you with me" school of relationships.
Apparently, while walking behind them to meet me one of the protesters gave him the signs and then abandoned the cause. That's right, handed off his homemade scene of destruction to come and his morals to a random stranger. Well, we couldn't very well put the signs down anywhere.
And, as I said, everyone was being very stoic--and marching fast in the rain, might I add.
We continue with the protest for a couple of blocks, me with my cell phone out and my I-had-an-interview-this- morning-and-did-not-dress-for-a-protest-clothes standing out from the long skirts and hand knit scarves that are earnestly marching in front of me.
But, who does the reporter approach as people begin spreading out on the grass in front of..oh, oh, they aren't just protesting mountain top removal, they are protesting Constellation Energy. And the reporter would like to know, from Lane and myself, what the plans for the protest are. Do we plan to walk around again? So, we confess. We aren't morally upright, involved citizens. We're gross consumers, over polite people from the south who got roped into the whole thing.
Meanwhile, my teeth are starting to chatter and my shoes are soaked through. Out comes the bullhorn and the boos. And we, we lay down our signs ever so gently and back slowly, slowly toward the sidewalk. It was as if we thought if we moved slowly, they wouldn't see us or our moral perfidy. Once at the sidewalk,we then do everything short of run in the opposite direction.
I imagine they were confused by our presence and then our abandonment. I hope they didn't curse us. I'm also a little upset that my first real protest lasted about 5 minutes and was not at all planned--on my part anyway, the actual protesters seemed very organized.
Of course, this is what I love about UB and living in the city.Now, to you city natives, I am about to sound like the wide-eyed, small town girl I will likely always be--at least a little. See, on any given day in my small town I can say, with reasonable authority, there will be no protests or parades that do not have proper town participation. I can also say I will not accidentally participate in said protest or parade, or be questioned by reporters about it.
Which is unfortunate. I think everyone should have an Accidental Protest story. It could make for a really cool party theme.
Three things I found this week: Wear good walking/water proof shoes to a protest. Thanksgiving leftovers taste even better when you made the meal yourself. And, Filene's Basement has kickin' deals.
Three things I still need to find: A job! I decided not to take that position I interviewed for (which, ironically, was to Save the Harbor by walking door to door from 2p.m.-10p.m. everyday). A really good convertible couch--apparently our recent house guests are not enamored of our cement floor. And, a real, planned participation protest!
5 comments:
very interesting story. never heard of an accidental protes...lol
OMG...that is quite funny !!! good luck on the job scene and a futon is nice.
I work for Filene's Basement in the corporate office in Boston and saw your blog through my Google Alert for the store. What a riot -- and you have a way with words that really captures the experience. what type of job are you looking for? Hope you land a job where you can use your writing skills (with a company that has a sense of humor). Thanks for being a Filene's Basement fan. We're on Facebook now, if you're interested.
I accidentally got dragged into a protest against Fascism in Belgium once. There was a march, very grim and serious, and my GF and I were standing there trying to figure out what they were doing, and then a cherry bomb went off right behind us and we leapt with Great Alacrity into the end of the parade/march. Oops. Of course we were opposed to Fascism in Belgium, but it would have been better if we had done it on purpose.
Patricia, thanks so much for the comment. At the moment, as a graduate student, I'm just desperately seeking money. But, of course, ideally it would be a writing job--and certainly with a company with a sense of humour. Thanks so much!
Rafe--that is amazing. Your accidental protest story is much better than mine. I wonder if I/we could parlay these experiences into a television series on the travel channel. I, personally, think it could be a hit show. Obviously entitled The Accidental Protestor.
Post a Comment