August 31, 2004
The Balloon Bloc
On Sunday, my friends and I went to the demonstration to voice our opposition to the Republican National Convention, the presidency of George Bush, and the war in Iraq.
We started out from Chinatown with ten giant, yellow balloons that read “Re-Defeat Bush,” and a few smaller ones with a picture of the president on them.
On Houston we passed a group of officers who were preparing their zip-cuffs and riot gear. They left us alone. I suppose they were preparing for the evildoer’s parade.
At Seventh we joined up with more of the balloon bloc and turned uptown ...
... where we met up with the main body of the demonstration.
An hour into the demonstration we spotted the NYPD FujiFilm Blimp in the clear sky above.
It is strange to be monitored by a giant blimp that is also trying to sell you film. I suppose if you were a republican delegate enjoying the city it might be comforting -- when Ohio delegate Aloysius Fingerhut is visiting Macys while a phalanx of riot cops keeps the New Yorkers at bay he might look up into the sky and think: "Ah, the Fujifilm blimp; the enormous gasbag makes me feel so at home...must buy extra film” -- but I found it a bit insulting to be advertised to by the panopticon.
When the Empire State Building was designed, architects imagined that zeppelins might moor to its tower. One of the first images the nation saw of the building was the airship Akron at port high above the city. But the photo was a fake, an image of the city that never was. The people who lived in New York City knew all along that the photo wasn't real; they lived here, after all. It was only the real hayseeds out in the sticks -- the Aloysius Fingerhuts -- who were fooled by the composite.
Midway through the march we reached Madison Square Garden, which has been turned into castle GreySkull for republicans. It is surrounded by fences, concrete blocks and barricades. The police were everywhere: on horseback, on mopeds, and bicycles. They were lined up columns deep like an occupying army.
If there were any actual delegates nearby the police were keeping them sequestered, and we were forced to vent our rage at the blank face of Madison Square Garden. “You’re destroying our nation!” Sarah cried to a concrete column. It remained indifferent. Addressing the “s” in "Madison" Brenden yelled, “Don't throw your party on our tragedy!” I turned on the light fixtures: “You bastards. You liars. You warmongers." Chris was going hoarse yelling "No War" at the reflection of George Bush in the bulbs of a giant electronic ticker that flashed, idiotically, “Thanks New York!”
The march continued back downtown to Union Square, and the further we got from the Garden the more we felt like the city was ours again. The police eased off a bit, and by the end it was almost a normal day in the city.
At an unguarded corner we let the balloons go, and somehow they got caught up in a street lamp at the entrance to the square. They floated there for the rest of the march, while we wandered off to find a bar and a bite to eat.
I was down in Union Square on Monday. The blimp had moved on like an unloved cat, but the balloons were still floating.
Don't believe the partisens on tv; we are good people, we were right about the war, and New York City says no.
