The last post was written back before my facial skin was treated to 3.5 hours of roasting as I forgot to slather on the usual SPF 615 lotion before yesterday's FTAA rally & march & belly-to-belly protesters/cops standoff. Headed via thruway to the international border/Peace Bridge and then ended up on the wrong side of the law/police barricade of nose-to-tail garbage trucks, and dozens of units of marching (and chanting) SWAT team members, State Troopers, border patrol, and policemen. After much confusion and conflicting advice from aforementioned as to where to park my vehicle, I intended to leave it somewhere near the garbage trucks which greatly upset a little officer in huge orange rain coat (note: not a cloud in the sky). He yelled, baton up, as if to batter my vehicle. He screamed so loud it was rather amazing, his eyes had that glazed look of someone post-drinks & pre-fight - or someone who's had way too much uppity substances. He told me to remove myself and my vehicle and gave me vague directions, shouting "DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, MA'AM?" When I heard the ma'am part I sort of chose to ignore him and kept driving, and thinking 'Fuck You, Sir.' Well that wasn't a wise, but rather a wiseacre, idea as he then yelled even LOUDER and ran towards my vehicle (note use of vehicle rather than car) with his baton higher. That made ten others in similar attire run towards me and the vehicle. I stopped then. He leaned into my car, his scary little face very near mine. I thought, ever so briefly, that I wanted to tell him never to call me ma'am again. "Ma'am? Did you not hear me yelling for you to stop?" I finally ditched the car and trotted to the march, shooting various people in both the legal and arrest-friendly zones. I saw Ani's mother and told her that she was marching along into non-legal rally zone and she came to a screeching halt, especially after I told her about the armies I saw marching minutes earlier. Got to the bridge and talked with several of my photo colleagues, and some protesters I know. Didn't know any of the cops, but who the hell could tell when they were behind scratched plexi shields, plexi face shields, and gas masks? Only one arrest happened, some skinny punk rocker with an anti-FTAA rag pinned to his filthy wife beater and sporting a skillful mohawk. He was later graciously released and I was the only media hack who did not run after him to make him hero for a day (I got him when he was wrassled to the ground). At one point I was nearly pressed against a SWAT guy when I turned and whacked my head on his shield. I then asked him some small-talk-style questions about the weight of his shield, etc. One of several weird moments: it's typical for the authorities to be irked by pressing media but suddenly yesterday the protesting mass was asking media to get out. One of my pals said his feelings were hurt. A revolution without still and video cameras is not only foolhardy, but suspect. 3.5 hours and then the protesters turned to go to another rally, and I made my brunch engagement, regaling some non-media friends with snippets which I washed down with strong coffee.