Workers of the world pt. 3
Don't bother the....graduation? Seriously?
I made my way across the street and up the hill. I heard a bullhorn. I didn't really see anyone.
To our merit, we did shut the school down. I didn't see any undergraduates walking around. It looked like campus on a weekend. I will say that. But neither did I see the giant offering of protest that would have meritted the varitable police army in front of the Mullins Center. What the hell was going on. For a few moments I entertained the very strange notion that while I had been listening to my tape of Modest Mouse, announcements for evacuation due to full scale nuclear war had been announced over the radio. That's what it felt like. The empty campus was just plain eerie.
Then I turned the corner and I saw them...my people...the thirty or so people walking in a circle in front of Bartlett hall. When you consider that 16,000 people probably missed one or possibly all their classes that day, you expect to see more than thirty people walking in a circle, and you know what...I'll say it, we sucked at it.
I remember being in a hotel in SF during the hotel worker strike and wanting to KILL the people shouting downstairs. They shouted all night. They shouted all day. They shouted all the way through my hangover. When I went down for a cigarette, I actually contemplated walking across the street and punching somebody. That's not an exageration. They shouted in Vietmanese, they shouted in Spanish, they shouted in English.
Our English revelers couldn't seem to figure out that they had to make constant noise. They didn't want to make constant noise. Hell, they didn't want to walk. They wanted to go home and read. That's what people like me do. So, we'd walk in a circle and every so often one of four of our union leaders would attempt a chant.
I made my way across the street and up the hill. I heard a bullhorn. I didn't really see anyone.
To our merit, we did shut the school down. I didn't see any undergraduates walking around. It looked like campus on a weekend. I will say that. But neither did I see the giant offering of protest that would have meritted the varitable police army in front of the Mullins Center. What the hell was going on. For a few moments I entertained the very strange notion that while I had been listening to my tape of Modest Mouse, announcements for evacuation due to full scale nuclear war had been announced over the radio. That's what it felt like. The empty campus was just plain eerie.
Then I turned the corner and I saw them...my people...the thirty or so people walking in a circle in front of Bartlett hall. When you consider that 16,000 people probably missed one or possibly all their classes that day, you expect to see more than thirty people walking in a circle, and you know what...I'll say it, we sucked at it.
I remember being in a hotel in SF during the hotel worker strike and wanting to KILL the people shouting downstairs. They shouted all night. They shouted all day. They shouted all the way through my hangover. When I went down for a cigarette, I actually contemplated walking across the street and punching somebody. That's not an exageration. They shouted in Vietmanese, they shouted in Spanish, they shouted in English.
Our English revelers couldn't seem to figure out that they had to make constant noise. They didn't want to make constant noise. Hell, they didn't want to walk. They wanted to go home and read. That's what people like me do. So, we'd walk in a circle and every so often one of four of our union leaders would attempt a chant.
posted by Monstro D. Whale at
5:26 PM
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