My boyfriend and I had just had our hair cut in Astor Square, and after
he headed back uptown to rehearsal I went south into SoHo for some light
shopping. The sidewalks were crowded with the typical herds of
tourists, but because I had no where else I needed to be I casually,
patiently strolled among them.
The gentle din of urban life, the hum of food trucks, the bad euro dj music emerging from the nearest mega-chain retailer were all interrupted by the sudden roar of a large, angry crowd. My pedestrian haze was quickly jolted back real life as I turned to see what I would later come to know as the Occupy Wall Street group.
They were aggressively protesting in the middle of the street fighting against traffic up Broadway. There seemed to little-to-no police presence in what seemed to be a spontaneous, unorganized riot-in-the-making... save for a few sweaty looking cops tailing the group at a safe distance.
That being said, a few hours later as I was crossing University at 12th street just south of Union Square, less than a block away from my boss's loft, and literally in the epicenter of a collision between the #OccupyWallSt kids (who were now running full bore) and a much larger contingent of NYPD that had planted themselves in a barricade mid intersection.
Seconds after I cleared the cross walk, the two groups met. Elbows hooked into heads, necks were clothesline-clipped by extended forearms, bodies mounded on the black pavement in piles of wrestling.
I had honestly never seen anything like it. The small group of spectators that had joined me on the street corner watched in silent shock for a moment before quickly continuing west, away from the brawl.
I ran into a couple of hipster girls from the New School who looked totally clueless. Without stopping, I said "you'd better just turn around and go the other way."
Read the rest of the story here at NYDAILY
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