Get-Up-And-Go

03.20.07
Yesterday I joined a crowd protesting the Iraq war down Michigan Avenue in Chicago. It went from Michigan Ave to Wacker and down Clark to the Daley Plaza. I left the crowd when they hit Clark. I wanted to be part of it and wanted to be uplifted in some sort of spirit. I ran towards the crowd to join them, glad that I caught it in time, and hoped I didn’t miss too much that had already passed. It was cold outside and I was still somewhat toasty from my nine mile run outside by the lake. Before I joined them, I went back to my apartment and changed into dry clothes as quickly as I could and darted right back out towards the crowd still heading down Michigan. Helicopters were everywhere taking video shots and probably news broadcasting the whole event. I was monitoring them as I was running north by the lake for the whole hour and fifteen that I was running wondering when the protest would start or break and if I could make it in time, funny how I value my run over the protest and wouldn’t dare consider giving up my run and had to finish it first. The police force was everywhere too. Seems like there was one for every protestor, even though the turn out was about 4000 people marching. Most of them seem to cluster around the banks with shields over their faces, helmets, bulletproof vests, and long black sticks poised. Someone handed me a poster when I stepped into the mass. I took it and held it up. I chanted softly with the few chanters around me who were faint and barely audible like me. I didn’t know what I should be doing, screaming or acting civil. What were the rules? There were a lot of cops around. There must be rules. Life is full of rules and with cops with big, heavy clubs ready, I would have hoped that someone would have explained to me the rules. Have it posted on one of the millions of banners for Christ sakes or something. I could have done something wrong, terrible, and been put in jail! Anyway, Chicago is a city filled with meek people and I was too self absorbed with myself and analyzing the entire event. The people are dead. Rocks have more energy. Yet their buildings are bursting with energy, full of so much strength, beauty, and originality. It gives me chills and freaks me out when I take a good look around me sometimes. You feel like those building are giants possessing some mystical powers as they hover over you. But the people are dead as sticks. Some protestors around me were giving tours to other people around them about which building was what and what they called the street they were on as magnificent mile, etc... People were walking forward only because the person in front of them was walking forward. If the crowd in front came to a stop, they did so as well. It was like watching one of those bad movies where you’re totally out of the movie world and just complaining the whole time about the movie and the unrealistically of the whole thing. I was standing there, walking at crawl pace wondering what I was doing, how was this helping, and wondering if the temperature was really dropping, as it felt like it was with every few feet we moved. I didn’t realize until half way through the march that my sign was upside down too, making the whole dead people in Chicago more deadly real. I wasn’t helping the cause, just embarrassing myself and the entire event. The crowd was depressing to look at only because it was so type categorized and had no real motley feel to it. The majority were either old folks, destitute people, or young hippy groups. These were people you’ll find in one of those reenacted woodstock concerts. The crowd was so foreign to me after spending hours in a corporate office setting with anal ass people with clean cut faces with sharp hair cuts and clothes that looked freshly bought all the time. Even on Fridays, their jeans looked pristine and never scruffy. Almost everyone in the crowd look scruffy or worn down either from age or from poverty. I didn’t feel uplifted or inspirationally changed from the event. I felt pathetic and left the crowd to continue on without me after about 40 minutes in the cold. Maybe I was looking for a riot of energy coming from these people or a riot to join in and get myself put in jail so I’d have a legitimate excuse for missing work tomorrow, but all I got was just zombies walking forward with signs, mine was upside down by the way. There were many of them shouting, some microphoning and raising chants, drums were played, etc., but the overall effect wasn’t right because it was all too low profiled and muffled, like a noise cancelling, filtering screen was placed over the whole event. I know it was a nonviolent protest, but you’ll see the same bunch of people having more passion and displaying more vigor when the SOX won the world series in 2006. That night was filled with people celebrating past 3am honking their horns and screaming like they just contracted mad cow disease. So what’s the difference? No beer this time?