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Situational Tour: Iraq War 5th Anniversary Protests
A long line of police cars sit motionless, waiting patiently in the rain. The lights create beautiful yet uneasy reflections on the empty, damp street.
Protesters gather in the intersection as police tape is put up. Bystanders watch the protest gingerly and take pictures; some build up enough courage and cross the sidewalk. Pedestrians and protesters intermingle on the fringes, making it impossible to tell which is which.
Several protesters hold a sign stating their position on torture. They pose dutifully for the camera, displaying their banner proudly as a statue in the background peers off into the distance.
A critical mass is achieved and a vanguard of protesters forms, reminiscent of so many others before them.
A glance back behind the protest reveals the development of a temporary MPD motor pool. Behind yellow police tape a neat line of motorcycles stand dutifully at the ready.
The protest stops in front of the Armed Forces Recruiting Center, barred from entry by a line of police and several counter-protesters. Someone in the crowd throws a paint-filled balloon at one of the officers, spattering him a brilliant red. The officer, looking more surprised than angry, stands his ground.
Some police sport riotsquad helmets should the crowd try to pelt them with anything. The officers look on impartially as a stern-faced commander issues orders over a radio in the background.
Banners and signs held high, tempers rise as the crowd begins chanting. A reporter and I catch one female protester yelling loudly at the police.
Counter-protesters behind the police hold American flags and signs high. The red paint thrown earlier begins to spread across the wet sidewalk, creating a scene eerily reminiscent of protests turned violent.
The protest moves to another intersection and temporarily blocks traffic. A tour bus lumbers by and a sense of uneasiness creeps up my spine as a mass of police officers surround the protesters. Will there be violence? The answer to this is, thankfully, no. Not a single baton is seen as the protesters are gently herded into the park by the officers.
Police line the sides of the park near the intersection to prevent further disruption of traffic. A lighthearted attitude prevails among the police, and I catch one chatting amiably with a protester.
With most of the action over, I think the day's excitement cannot be topped. However, I am proven wrong when Blade appeared among the line of officers.
A long line of police cars sit motionless, waiting patiently in the rain. The lights create beautiful yet uneasy reflections on the empty, damp street.
Protesters gather in the intersection as police tape is put up. Bystanders watch the protest gingerly and take pictures; some build up enough courage and cross the sidewalk. Pedestrians and protesters intermingle on the fringes, making it impossible to tell which is which.
Several protesters hold a sign stating their position on torture. They pose dutifully for the camera, displaying their banner proudly as a statue in the background peers off into the distance.
A critical mass is achieved and a vanguard of protesters forms, reminiscent of so many others before them.
A glance back behind the protest reveals the development of a temporary MPD motor pool. Behind yellow police tape a neat line of motorcycles stand dutifully at the ready.
The protest stops in front of the Armed Forces Recruiting Center, barred from entry by a line of police and several counter-protesters. Someone in the crowd throws a paint-filled balloon at one of the officers, spattering him a brilliant red. The officer, looking more surprised than angry, stands his ground.
Some police sport riotsquad helmets should the crowd try to pelt them with anything. The officers look on impartially as a stern-faced commander issues orders over a radio in the background.
Banners and signs held high, tempers rise as the crowd begins chanting. A reporter and I catch one female protester yelling loudly at the police.
Counter-protesters behind the police hold American flags and signs high. The red paint thrown earlier begins to spread across the wet sidewalk, creating a scene eerily reminiscent of protests turned violent.
The protest moves to another intersection and temporarily blocks traffic. A tour bus lumbers by and a sense of uneasiness creeps up my spine as a mass of police officers surround the protesters. Will there be violence? The answer to this is, thankfully, no. Not a single baton is seen as the protesters are gently herded into the park by the officers.
Police line the sides of the park near the intersection to prevent further disruption of traffic. A lighthearted attitude prevails among the police, and I catch one chatting amiably with a protester.
With most of the action over, I think the day's excitement cannot be topped. However, I am proven wrong when Blade appeared among the line of officers.
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