Occupied

     
I picked a great week to keep hanging out on Wall Street.

I haven't been going there as part of the Occupy Wall Street protest (though sidenote: I have stopped by Zucotti Park a couple times and was totally impressed with their greywater system). Our regular childcare wasn't available this week so I trudged up to our backup option, which happens to be one block off Wall Street.

I was there Tuesday, the day after the protesters had been evicted from the park. I was there yesterday, when things seemed to be calming down. And then I was there oh-so-briefly this morning, when I could hear the noise of the protests before I even left the subway station. Climbing up the last of the subway steps - which by the way is no small task when you have a 20-pound baby, all his stuff, and all your stuff strapped to your torso - I ran right into the NYPD. All of them, it seemed. They stood around near the subway entrance. They stood behind barricades on the street, helmets on and batons at the ready. They were everywhere and like me, they could hear the protesters coming.

"Excuse me," an officer said as I turned toward my street. "Where are you headed?"

"I'm trying to take him to childcare," I said. "It's just down the street."

"Listen, I don't want to be a pain in the ass, but you should take him and get out of here. They're going to try and break down the gates and then... you should just go."

"Really?" I said, trying to peek around his shoulder to see what was going on.

In the end Nils and I got back on the subway and went home. I'll just work tomorrow.