A Great Night for a Little Protest March; the Zombies Thaw

What started out as a night for Hollywood ended up a night of Hollywood timing. My initial jaunt downtown was to attend a Sunday celebration thrown by the local SAG (Screen Actor’s Guild) chapter to celebrate the SAG awards and hold a small membership drive at some sport bar in LoDo Denver. I put on my casual attire, nice shoes and trotted down there in hopes of a fun filled evening among the thespians. I ended up being rather bored with it as most attendees were too engaged with their own tribe and nursing their overpriced drinks and food. I did manage to squeeze a double scotch out of some indie film producer/director but stayed no longer as my tolerance level for mediocrity was wearing thin. Since it was a room full of actors I decided to give them my grand performance of a man being whisked out of a sport bar on an emergency phone call. They were so taken by my cell phone act that no one payed heed to the fact that I was walking out with scotch glass in hand. I finished it off and laid it on the hood of a passing car, an offering to whoever owned the vehicle.

The path back to the bus (that takes me to my home barrio) runs right next to that infamous intersection of Colfax and Broadway, home ground to the Occupy Denver tribe. This always leaves me at least glancing in that direction to see what (if anything) is kicking up. Before trolling down to the sport bar SAG event, I passed the zombie village and noticed the unfurling of plastic tarps and bedding, airing out the stench that must have collected over the past few winter months; an early spring cleaning. I payed it little heed at the time as I was en route to the actor’s guild soiree and it wasn’t until I’d had my scotch and was prepped to go back home that I looked over again. This time I noticed a sizable crowd had gathered, complete with a huge American flag and assorted freshly constructed signs. I still had a good ten minutes before my bus showed up so rather than wait at the bus stop I wandered over to the protester’s camp to see what stirred.

The first person I noticed in the crowd was the Crazy Jesus Lady (see past blog entry “No Shirt Billy and the Crazy Jesus Lady“). I walked up and greeted her, letting her know of the infamous blog debut I laid on her which made her blush. This time she wasn’t sporting her adornment of mascara drawn cross on lips and forehead, but still had that glare in here eyes nonetheless. CJL could go postal on your ass at any given moment if the cause called. She informed me that the crowd was getting ready to start a protest march in response to the situation that happened in Oakland, California just the other day. The weather was nice and it managed to pull out quite a few people from the burbs, older citizens and concerned citizens who felt the need to protest against recent economical strife.  “How soon is the march starting and where is it going?” I asked. Jesus lady told me very soon they would start marching to the Denver Police station so I hurried myself around the crown to get a good feel of things, stopped in on a small group smoking a bowl to get prepped (thanks for the weed guys, topped the scotch off nice) and before I knew it the conga drum beat and voices filled the air as a group of a little more than 100 people began marching down the middle of Colfax Avenue, east toward the Denver Police station.

Media whores, news gatherers, blog stream feeders and local news station anchors jumped in and out of the mass protesting zombies who had come to life and raised their angry voice into the night air. Foul little ditties filled downtown Denver; ” From Oakland to Greece, fuck the police” and other rhythmic chants spurred the crowd on and kept pace, smiling and digging on the whole scene. The crowd had managed to stop eastbound traffic and soon, Denver’s finest began blocking off intersections with patrol cars, leading and following the angry mob as it made it’s way up past the state capital building. Onlookers from local bars stepped outside and encouraged the zombies on, a real crowd participation event. As I followed the crowd some 5 or 6 blocks east I began to wonder what might happen once we all arrived at the police station. Would heads roll? Would calmer heads prevail? Would Crazy Jesus Lady lose it like some Dark Ages berserker and thrust herself into a swarm of Denver cops? I could only hope so.


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