RIOT

LIZSAYS: I'd seen a stencil on a wall that said "Make feminism a threat again". I thought it was a kind of pathetic plea. Asking en masse for the power to get the power. LIZSAYS: "I think we are going to be in riot", said the really very cute, very cheery Dutch girl in a too cute satin, rose patterned romper suit. And, frankly I'm beginning to agree with her. And, yet we ordered a sandwich for dinner at the cafe, because it somehow made a certain amount of sense. I mean the cops had an impenetrable barrier set up a whole block away and the street with the better restaurants were clearly just spectators seats for the whole clash. The Squatters vs. The Robocops was evidently in full swing just as we started to think about going to dinner. We clearly were not going to be able to make reservations in the contested zone. Besides, the satellite truck was parked right on the bridge, surely that meant we were safe enough. Still, it was kind of a dry burger knowing that we were that close to that much tension. I mean, the horses had little pads on their skinny long legs and I couldn't believe anyone would kick a horse. Both the cheery Dutch girl and I agreed that horses could kick back pretty well, too. That's when she asked if it was clear to get to the Central Station on her bike. She had to give her friend to a ride to catch the train (on the back of her bike). She wanted to make sure she didn't have to ride through FutureWar 6.2, to get there. I said it was clear enough for us to get around the edge of the combat zone, stealthy attired Robocops on horses, big white police vans, about 20, and lines of helmeted puffy suited cops with sticks in a Roman formation made sure of that. So, while we are dining, no really just eating, in the DMZ, with me occasionally thinking about our position in this particular binary conflict. I mean affordable housing, neighbourhood blight, creative haircuts, piercings and the utility of dreadlocks in the winter had some place in the debate. But, no matter what the girl at the table next to us and I kept communing on a higher level. Scoping out the activity, figuring out who were the squatter's scouts and who were the undercover cops and or/media. "Well," she said in that Dutch way that sounds way over enunciated to our American ears, "if the action comes here, we should run and not pay our bill" to which I reminded her that that could start a revolution. Giggle, giggle. After a couple of more laughs, she got up to go and wished us luck. I told her, I thought it wouldn't be a problem getting to the station. To which, she rolled up her little capped sleeve and showed her bicep and said. "no, I will get through because we are strong women. We will join the police to fight through the protesters". Uh, girl power is not a problem here.