The American Spectator

Live From New York

Jailhouse Reds

By Shawn Macomber on 9.2.04 @ 12:23AM

(Page 2 of 2)

At any rate, as a march from the protest to Madison Square Garden got going, I attempted to make my way across to the opposite side of the street. An officer stopped me and asked that I cross instead at the next intersection. When I got there, however, bike police had boxed the protesters in. I was told once again to hold tight and I would be allowed to pass.

Alas, it was not to be. An officer armed with a bullhorn got up and announced that the marchers had to move on. This command was almost comical as the police were themselves impeding the ability of protesters to keep moving. Within seconds of the NYPD's version of Mission Impossible, a mass arrest was ordered and the police began penning everyone willy-nilly in together with a mesh orange fence.

IN SPITE OF THE fact that Secret Service agents showed up a few minutes later at the scene and verified my identity as a journalist accredited by the Congressional Press Office, and also the fact that I was clearly not participating in the protest, the NYPD still just had to have me. This was how it came to pass that I started being referred to lovingly as "the perp."

Without even a traffic violation on my record, going to jail was certainly a new experience for me. I must say, I didn't like it very much. To their credit, many lower ranking NYPD officers apologized to me privately and said they felt my arrest was way out of line.

This was not the opinion of the general population, however. My cellmates cheered like madmen anytime some new protest prisoners were led in, fists raised. Sure, they bitched about the arrests, but they delved into stories of past roundups with a relish I found confusing. The idea of being restricted to a small cell and constantly berated by guards did not find fertile ground in my imagination before I went to jail -- or afterwards.

Hilariously, some of the protest folks complained about "real criminals" -- i.e. those crazy-looking black guys across from us -- getting to see the judge before us, and the other inmates returned the scorn.

"Hey, you stupids," one real criminal called over. "You go to jail for nothing? I'm in jail, but at least I made some money getting here. Punk suckers."

As for me? Well, I got out of lockdown just as the sun was rising over the city. I walked the long walk to my hotel and enjoyed regaining my freedom. Even after such a short absence it felt so fresh. I was exhausted and nearly delusional, but I turned on a mindless daytime television program at random to calm down. I landed on NYPD Blue.

"Hey!" I said to the empty air. "I think I was there!"

Letter to the Editor

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