AFTERMATH
The Troubles were over. I was nostalgic for yesterday, nostalgic for the night before, nostalgic for the beautiful chaos that had unfolded all around me during the week, nostalgic for the mood on the street, the feeling in the air, the smell and taste of tear gas, and the possibility, fleeting as it was, that anything was possible, that anything could happen at any time, and that anything was happening all around me. I was tired and exhausted and knew that even though I wanted to keep the party and chaos vibe alive, it was time for me to get some rest and reset my body's clock back to normal time. When you expect anything to happen, nothing is surprising. I was thinking specifically of the moment last week when, dressed as Santa Claus, the black limousine drove into the intersection at Fourth and Pine and the police with M-16s leaped out of their unmarked vehicle. Thinking back on that moment, it is hard for me to imagine how nonchalant I felt about what was going on in front of me at the time. I remember resisting the urge to go around the corner and see for myself what was going on because we had agreed as a group to not break off and get into any trouble. It is this state of mind, however, of expecting anything to happen, by the fact that none of us had any idea at all about what to expect, that I am curious about now. The limousine being blocked in the intersection simply made sense to me at the time. The sound of one of its windows being smashed was more expected than surprising, and when the police got out of their vehicle with M-16's equipped with laser sights I did not think about the danger of being accidentally or deliberately shot, I was simply amazed by how quickly they had arrived on the scene.
It is hard for me now to recall exactly how I felt in the days leading up to W.T.O. week beyond a vague but not giddy excitement at the fact that anything was going to happen. The week exceeded all of my expectations. The only time I felt surprised was when the police marched down Broadway. That made no sense at all. A week later, I had grown tired of talking about The Troubles. Everyone had their own story to tell, and everyone seemed to want to stake a claim for where they were and when, and for what they did and saw when they were there. It was like we had all seen the same movie but were all trying to take credit for the making of that movie. How long, how many times, can you talk about your favorite scenes? It is inconceivable now, in retrospect, to think that in the midst of all that chaos, not one person died. It renders the whole week to the status of spectacle, of live theatre, and yet, at the same time, all that separated us from the potential outbreak of true anarchy was death. One single death would have provided the spark to an even more unimaginable outcome that would have plunged the city into a darkness so complete that everyone's reality would now be much different.
The media and police have labeled the people who were downtown or involved in the major chaos as protestors and anarchists but they have not tried or thought to mention or label those of us who were simply there to see what was going to happen, and I wonder now if that wasn't really all of us. I'm finding now that I have very little to say to the people who were not in the least bit curious to see what was happening downtown in Seattle that week, the ones who condemn the protestors as if it was the protestors and only the protestors who created the week's spectacle. I have very little empathy towards the people who don't or cannot appreciate the beauty contained in the crowds of total strangers who mingled and united in the ultimate expression of diversity downtown: unsupervised, unchoreographed chaos. The people I find myself identifying with after last week's events are those who understand that it was a party, pure and simple, and that something important happened.
It was hard to feel sorry for Mayor Schell and those in charge of creating a safe environment that would both allow the conference to take place and the protestors to have their say. If I suspected that the week was going to bring with it the kind of events that it did, and if the mayor of our city did not, does that make me smarter than the mayor, smarter than the business owners who thought it was going to be a big business week? The only information I had was what I read in the newspapers, and even I knew that there was going to be some kind of trouble. None of us could have imagined, though, how unprepared the city was to deal with the trouble once it began. At the same time, I think everyone knew exactly what was going to go down, and everyone involved played their part to the tee. We all deserve recognition for a spectacle that was well played out to a world-wide audience. We didn't fully comprehend how powerful we were as a crowd, especially when it was reported after the fact that there were only four or five hundred police officers on the street and forty or fifty thousand citizens. Why, then, had we felt any fear at all? We did not know how powerless the police forces really were, how scared they must have been, and how off base our perception of their power really was. Not that this would have made any difference in the way things went down. Everyone expected the worst from all parties involved. I don't think anyone was disappointed. Both people in the crowd and the police behaved badly. Both people in the crowd and the police behaved like caring human beings. If we all could have understood and appreciated the fact that we were all part of the same time and space, perhaps we could have avoided the confrontations that took place. But: perhaps we all take sides for a reason that we cannot fathom. Perhaps we all take sides so that things might balance out in the end on a primitive, instinctual level.
Life, a few weeks later, has returned to its normal state of lethargy and routine. Things could have been much worse, but everyone I talk to who was there gets a little glint in their eye when they think or talk about what they saw that week. Something did happen, something did change. Everyone who was there understands something different now. Everyone understands the boundaries, the rules. Everyone understands the fine line that exists between the world that we live in and the world of chaos and anarchy looming just on the other side. I can still hear the sirens and the explosions of the concussion grenades, the yells and cheers of the people in the street. I can still hear the helicopter in the sky as it circles overhead. I can still taste and feel the gas that was in the air. For weeks after the W.T.O. the sound of sirens or helicopters immediately made me look up from whatever I was doing. I half-expected the chaos to break out again at any moment. It has settled now, but it's still there, just beneath the surface, waiting for the next flash point to arrive and let it rear its ugly and beautiful head.

TEAR GAS IS LIKE
HEARTBREAK.
YOU KNOW
WHAT TO EXPECT
WHEN IT'S
ON THE WAY
BUT IT HURTS
JUST THE SAME
EVERY TIME.