Mind reeling, I walked. And walked. And walked. I walked from E97th Street to midtown. I passed Central Park, where secret service and black van special forces lined the streets, guarding what appeared to be some sort of celebration or concert within. I walked by men and women in suits and fancy dresses wearing convention IDs. I walked in an attempt to calm myself down, but with each step my rage just boiled.
At the end of the park, I received a txtbmob message alerting protestors to the War on the Media Rally, which was converging on 48th and 6th Avenue outside of Fox. I walked right into it, promising myself that I would not enter the penned crowd and stay only as long as the police allowed and the crowd remained peaceful. It never got ugly (there were more stops-- most notably, CocaCola at 9:30 pm). Non-permitted, the rally was still allowed to take place and there was a sound system-- a bonus.
It was pretty much the same old yelling and chanting, though I must say that the Shut the Fox Ups helped soothe me. I realized, despite the fact that these rallies have not said much other than to gather like, angry minds-- to publicize that anger, that this type of protest-- the vocal, mobile kind, physically (or geographically) directed at part of the problem, was the type of social action that I needed.
Delegates and other GOP affiliates seemed to float in and out of the scene. Many had their IDs tucked into their shirts, as did one man, though his identity was hard to hide, given that he was wearing a red, white, and blue pin in the shape of Texas and giant straw cowboy hat.
At one point, a scruffy, smelly young protestor stopped, squinting at the tucked IDs and Texas pin, and held out a can of change toward the man. Would you like to help me get my friends out of jail, sir? he asked. As the man shook his head no, uncomfortably smiling, the young man persisted, and the man with the Texas pin wiggled away into the crowd.
You're scaring away the delegates, I said jokingly. He's lucky I'm not spitting in his face, the young man replied.
Perhaps the shining moment of the night was an interaction between two protestors and two NYC Republican citizens. The two men, who had been walking through the crowded 6th Avenue sidewalk, stopped to talk to the protestors, both in their late twenties, who were handing out magazines promoting an independent movie. They asked questions about one another's beliefs, challenged those thoughts, and verbally sparred-- yet there was no yelling and no blatant disrespect.
After they were done, one of the men turned to me and I shook his hand. And just who are you? he asked. I'm just a citizen of New York City, I responded, A citizen interested in your thoughts.
Well so am I, dear, so am I, he said, shaking my hand, and walked off into the night.
