ell informed about domestic and world affairs. The protest signs reflected many International issues around the globe. The physical characteristics of the protest sites represented the larger characteristics of a two class society. Across the street from the Convention Center were the protestors, the workers, the radicals, the poor, the youth, the elderly, and the unemployed.

Across the street at the Convention Center, the haves, the representatives of the power elite, the ruling class, the wealthy of this nation and the world. And in the center, the San Diego Police Department, on bikes, on horses, on motorcycles, etc... The sheriff's department was there, along with the FBI and the Secret Service, the true Men-In-Black. I have a press pass and had to force the cops to let me across the street where the Major Media were stationed. I was told by a cop that I could not cross the street. So, I confronted his Lieutenant, and was allowed to cross the street to the Convention Center. I was sandwiched in the middle of the U.S. Corporate Media. Many of the faces I recognized from TV news.

After about 10 minutes of snapping pictures and staring into the faces of the demonstrators, I started chanting along with the protestoers, "Bush, Bush, you can't hide, we charge you with genocide!" I could feel the mass media to my right and to my left ease a few feet away from me. Out of the side of my eye, I noticed a cop approaching me. He screamed, ""You got to leave." I asked, "Why?" He said I was trespassing. I said, "No, I wasn't. I'm with the press." He took my press pass and wrote down some information, and walked away. I guess he assumed that all of the media people supported Bush, American foreign policies, or that we shouldn't have protesters at all. After a fe wminutes, I noticed at the end of the block, a pushing & shoving match was going on betwen the cops and the protesters. The protesters stopped off the grassy parkway into the streets, & as the protesters marched, four of them sat in the middle of ther street, in protest & were surrounded by cops & arrested.

Suddenly the scene became real sureal, the Bush motorcade began speeding down the street. It was a caravan of all black vehicles. Some vans some limousines, some cars. They were all black & looked as if they were armored, like something from a sci-fi movie. It was hard to tell ehich vechicle Bush was riding in. They moved real fast & there were a lot of them. It really a concept of them versus us! It was a glimpse into their world, & no where did we, the protesters, fit in. For those few seconds, everything went Black, the men in black suits, the transportation & even the sky seemed a little blacked than before. The protestors decided to march through San Diego Gas Lamp district. THe Gas Lamp area is one of the largest tourist attractions in America. It is a valuable piece of real estate. No wonder, the police showed up in full riot gear. As the marches began their trek through the Gas Lamp District, they posted a [sign at a place named, Pat and Oscar's, as the protesters walked by, the restaurant workers came outside and started cheering the crowd. It was a good show of solidarity between the working class. We marched a few blocks more, and I noticed a small group of demonstrators surrounding a woman sitting on the ground.

An onlooker explained to me that the woman foot had been stepped on by a horse. The cop just rode off without a word. In the middle of what looked like a police state, not one officer inquired about what had happened. As we marched on, the situation drew tense, at 4th and Market St., the marchers stopped, the cop emerged in full force, gas masks and all. We were in the heart of the Gas Lamp district, across the street from Hooters. I then noticed something really bizarre, we were in front of Starbucks. We were right in the middle of the American dream, or its nightmare, Starbucks, American capitalism at its finest hour. I suddenly realized the all the elements of class society were on that corner. We were for a brief moment in space and time, at war with our real enemy. The cops were going to protect that moment, no matter what the cost. There was too much on the line, too much invested. It was, move on "trash" or be killed. I may be a little over dramatic here, but when I saw the gas masks being pulled out of the van. I realized that ever battle I had ever been involved in, was part of what was going down right now.

As we marched on, we had another group of people come outside to greet us. They were from a bar called, Dick's Resort. This time the group was not supportive of our actions, they shouted, "Four more years, four more years."

Many of this group were blue collar workers, who have a few dollars left on their credit cards. Most likely they didn't really give a damn about how many Iraqi people had been killed. All they cared about was the beer in front of them, and that Dick's Resort served the best pizza in town. As the demonstrators dispersed, a marcher approached me about how could we get the word out to the masses of people, I turned to him and said, "We just did."

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