Thinking of getting arrested at the 2016 Republican convention in Cleveland? Let me have a word with you.
Two years from now, when the GOP faithful convene in Cleveland for their national convention, protests will surely accompany the festivities. People will get arrested; tempers will flare; and lawsuits will be filed. Politics churns on, my friend.
In 2004, at the uber-idealistic age of 23, I spent 26 hours in a New York City prison. Dubbed "Guantanamo on the Hudson," Pier 57 served as a clearinghouse and temporary prison for the approximately 1,600 citizens who got "out of line" while protesting at the RNC, back when Pres. George W. Bush sought (and won) a second term. You probably read about the settlement - announced in January - that will cost the city $18 million.
What follows below is my account of that weekend. Italicized passages were pulled from a journal entry that I penned on hotel stationery hours after my release (and glorious shower followed by a hot meal).
Our march began at the World Trade Center site and was projected to end at Madison Square Garden - convention central. Together with my fellow dissenters, we walked no more than 500 feet down the street before officers ordered us to stop. The NYPD had allowed the group to march without a permit, but we had to stay on the sidewalk. Being that liberals are not known for obeying orders, several people meandered into the street and we ended up in plastic handcuffs. Police then loaded us onto a bus.
Bright lights, chain-link fencing, wooden benches, dirty concrete floors stained with motor fluids, and exhausted detainees could be viewed inside all the cells at Pier 57, located in downtown Manhattan.
As for my companions inside those warm holding pens ....
Those detained did not fit the usual profile of anarchist and demonstrator types. Priests, lawyers, grandmothers, and foreigners also inhabited Guantanamo.
I offer up the following pieces of advice to would be demonstrators planning on going to Cleveland in 2016:
1. The food will suck. I recall receiving at least two "meals" consisting of a bologna sandwich and milk. One vegan asked the officer for something different, I recall, and the cop just laughed. Might I suggest jamming your pockets with Cliff bars and telling officers that you are a diabetic when they strip you of your material possessions.
2. Choose your phone call wisely. I read a few accounts of prisoners claiming that they were not permitted to make a phone call. I did. Instead of calling mom or dad, I did the responsible thing and called out of work. Cheryl answered the phone at Barnes & Noble and - knowing I was in New York for the convention - suspected I had been arrested. Bookstore workers are damn smart.
3. Don't lie during exit interviews. When you are released, staff members from groups like the National Lawyers Guild will ask you questions about how you were treated. I found some of these questions to be leading, as if they really wanted me to say that I was abused. Outside of the putrid conditions at Pier 57, a former bus depot, I found officers to be respectful.
4. Get paid! According to a quick calculation, having my civil rights violated nets me a sweet rate of $246 per hour. Maybe the check will come on my birthday later this month. So, Dick Cheney, W. Bush, Condi Rice, Gonzalez and the gang, thanks for the memories and the stimulus for my checking account.