I have spent the last many hours with protestors, in tear gas and with my trusty camera. I have a million and six things to say about it, including the fact that using a respirator only works 80% of the time. The other 20% is to get away from the sparking, spewing missile (or in this case, two) that’s been lobbed at you. Lesson learned.
Also, here is a very unflattering picture of me showing what happens when your equipment doesn’t quite work.
The teargassing was my fault. I was at a lovely, kms-long protest with singing and drumming and pretty pretty signs and great cleverness, and I went to go investigate what I knew to be a conflict zone. Bad me. But at least I got to see this photographer who I’ve seen before who had this spray he was offering to the students who had gotten teargassed badly, just spraying it in their eyes (and they let him). He had also picked up my bike helmet when I dropped it in the meleé of running away because I thought my eyes were going to bleed out of my head. I got it back and thanked him. Thanks again, photog with the spray and helmet-saver.
There are reports of an infiltrated police officer among the ne’er-do-wells. I will watch this news carefully and try not to be snarky. It is a terrible thing when you can’t rely on your criminals to be actual criminals.
Also, I just wrote a piece for Matador which I hope will be up by the time I get back from my jaunt around the block (and I will link to it, but surely it will be here, if you can’t wait. I’ve been outside all day with 149,999 of my closest friends or in front of the computer and I just need a break.
Good night. And go read the Matador piece, if you’re still awake.